


Couldn't find the words

by Tails89



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Happy Ending, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, I just want them to be happy, Kidnapping, M/M, Miscommunication, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, because it's what they deserve, dumb oblivious boys, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:53:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26043796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tails89/pseuds/Tails89
Summary: *Complete*John stands, holding out his hand for Melissa. “I never thought I’d be happy to see my son dating Derek Hale."“They’re good for each other.” Melissa lets John pull her up onto her feet. “I’m happy for them.”a.k.aFive times someone thought Stiles and Derek were dating (plus one time they finally used their words and were!)
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 90
Kudos: 853





	1. Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should be posting my other story but I'm posting this instead. I've always wanted to write a 5 +1 fic and that's how this started out.
> 
> Anyway, be prepared for miscommunication in the best kind of way!

“Ah shit!”

Derek pulls up, feet almost skidding on the icy ground, to avoid running into the woman who had just slipped in front of him. He offers his hand to help pull her to her feet and then crouches to gather up the items that had spilled from her bag.

“Thanks.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks pink in the cold.

Derek can only just hear her over the music blaring from his headphones. “It’s not a problem,” he mumbles, handing over the bag.

She opens her mouth as if to say something more, but Derek is already beginning to move away. It’s a half hour run back to his place and he still needs to shower and eat before work. He knew he’d be cutting it close when he decided to detour through the main street to check on Erica and Boyd.

He gets home with time to spare and takes a long shower. Werewolves may run warmer than most humans, but even Derek couldn’t deny that the winter chill had finally set in across Beacon Hills.

He’s just sitting down to breakfast when his computer begins to beep the incoming chirp of a Skype call. Derek stabs at his keyboard to accept the call.

“I don’t have time for this Stiles,” he greets the rumpled figure on the screen.

“You could have ignored me,” Stiles counters, grinning down at the screen. His hair is sticking up at all angles, suggesting he only just got out of bed. The dark circles surrounding his eyes suggesting he could probably do with more sleep.

“And you would have kept calling and texting until I answered. It’s usually just quicker to answer the first time.”

“You’re learning!”

“I’m leaving.” Derek shoves the last piece of toast in his mouth and goes to shut the laptop.

“Hey, wait.” Stiles waves his hands in front of the camera. “Finals are over. I’m heading home on Friday, you’re still cool with me crashing at your place Friday night yeah?”

“Why aren’t you staying with your Dad again?” Derek asks.

“Between Dad and Melissa, Scott and Kira I’m going to be the double third wheel?” Stiles does the maths on his fingers. “The fifth wheel? It’s awkward man, and its either share my room with Scott who will not shut up about Kira this and Kira that or sleep on the couch. The couch Derek! In my own house! I’d much rather crash in your spare room.”

Derek glances at the time. “Yeah, sure, you can stay here,” he says. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you Frida-.”

Derek shuts his laptop, ending the call. He rushes out the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out. His phone chirps Stiles’ indignance at being hung up on. Fortunately, he can cut across the park quickly to get into town and get to his job at the library with time to spare to set up for the day.

***

It’s late when Derek finally makes it home.

The lights are on inside the house, illuminating small patches of the porch through drawn curtains.

“I don’t remember giving you a key,” Derek drawls as he pushes the door open, “but I’m not surprised you managed to find a way in… and make yourself at home.”

“Hey Derek,” Stiles pauses the movie he’s been watching. “Nice place. Way less creepy than the old one. And look, it has walls!”

Derek drops his keys on the table by the front door and makes his way over to the couch, stopping to drop his bag on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, that was one of the reasons I chose it actually,” he says, knocking Stile’s feet off the seat so he can sit.

“Huh, werewolf’s got jokes,” Stiles teases. He offers Derek the bowl of popcorn he’d been munching on. Popcorn he must have purchased, because Derek _knows_ there had been none in the house that morning. “Seriously though,” Stile continues, “it’s nice.”

Derek takes the offered snacks. “You should have seen it when I bought it.” He looks around at the fresh painted walls and plush carpet.

“Yeah, dad was telling me. He said you’d bought a dump. This is so not what I was expecting.”

The sheriff had advised Derek against purchasing the worn-down house, but Derek had needed something to do with his spare time once the pack had all gone off to university. At first, he’d considered fixing up the old Hale house, but the damage to it had been too significant and it had needed to be pulled down completely. Derek didn’t have the heart to try and re-build it from scratch. It wouldn’t be the same.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Derek says. “It just needed new paint and carpet, and some electrical work and the bathrooms needed resealing and tiling.”

Stiles stares at him. “Sure.” He lets the word drag out.

“Anyway,” Derek says, trying to turn the attention away from himself. “What are you doing here? You told me you wouldn’t be here until Friday?”

“Oh, you got that did you?” Stiles retorts, “when you so rudely hung up on me.” He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth, chattering as he chews. “I managed to get an extra day off work so I could come home early.”

“Your dad will be happy,” Derek says. “He’s missed you.”

Stiles nods. “I haven’t told him yet. I’m going to surprise him at work tomorrow.” He hits play to resume the movie.

Derek narrows his eyes at him. “Is that your way of asking if you can crash here?”

“That’s cool right?” Stiles asks.

Derek doesn’t have a problem with it, but he draws out his answer as if he’s mulling it over. Finally he says, “Fine. You can stay.” He gestures back towards the hall. “The spare room is down the hall on the left.

Grinning, Stiles resumes the movie.

***

When Derek gets up the next morning, he can already hear Stiles rustling around in the bathroom across the hall. He ducks into his ensuite for a quick shower and is heading out into the kitchen just as Stiles is opening the fridge to peer inside.

“There’s eggs in there if you want.” Derek moves over to the coffee maker. “Or muesli in the cupboard.” There’s already a fresh pot brewing. Stiles must have worked the machine out while Derek was in the shower.

“Muesli,” Stiles scoffs. He has the eggs and a carton of milk in one hand, the other is reaching for the pantry door. “Who in their right mind eats muesli?” He finds the flour and dumps his armload on the bench. “But you knew that already,” he says going back for the sugar and maple syrup. “Because by some magical chance you have all the ingredients – unopened – for pancakes. Crazy, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s weird,” Derek agrees, pouring himself a coffee and sitting on one of the bar stools to watch Stiles mix up the batter. “No idea how that happened.”

“It’s almost like you knew I was coming.” Stiles sets the frypan on the stove to heat and fills his mug with coffee. “Ahh, the sweet elixir of life!” He takes a moment to savour the taste before turning back to the task at hand. The pan sizzles when he drops the butter onto the hotplate. “So, what are your plans for the day?” He asks Derek.

“I’m working this morning,” Derek tells him. “But I finish around lunch if you want to do something?”

Stiles flips the first pancake.

“Sounds good,” he says. “I’m going to surprise Dad at work. I haven’t told him I’m back yet.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “So you said.”

“I’m surprising him so I can catch him out eating junk food,” Stiles says defensively. “Don’t look at me like that.” He drops the finished pancake onto a plate. “I’m young and healthy. I can eat what I want.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Derek snags the plate and drizzles a generous serving of maple syrup over the top.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Stiles lunges for the plate. “You don’t even like pancakes. Go eat your muesli.”

Derek holds him back with one hand. “This is rent,” he claims. “You owe me two more. Get cooking.”

Stiles grumbles and returns to the stove to finish breakfast.

“Will you be staying here again tonight?” Derek asks.

“If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Derek holds out his plate to accept another pancake. “Cora’s not coming down for Christmas this year. She’s meeting Jason’s parents.”

“Oh yeah, she was telling me about that.” Stiles sits to eat his breakfast. “That’s cool. And it means no couch for Stiles.” He devours his meal while Derek packs the dishwasher and cleans his teeth.

Derek grabs up his jacket and shrugs it on. “I’m off. I’ll catch you later.”

Stiles nods and finishes his breakfast.

***

“Hey Daddio!”

“Hey kid, what are you doing here?” Sherriff John Stilinski stands from his desk and gathers his son up in a hug. “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“I was able to get a couple of extra days off work,” Stiles explains. He lets go of his Dad and takes a seat on the desk, one foot bracing and the other swinging in the air. “So, surprise!” He breaks out the jazz hands.

“This is fantastic.” John sits at his desk. “Scott gets back tomorrow, and I know Mel is dying to see her boys. I’ll let her know to get your room set up.”

“It’s all good.” Stiles says, waving his dad off. “I’m crashing at Derek’s place. Figured Scott and Kira would want to room together and I’m not about to get between those two lovesick puppy dogs.”

John frowns. “Are you sure?” He asks. “It’s your room. I don’t want you to feel like you haven’t got a place to go.”

“It’s fine Dad, really.” Stiles reassures him. “It’s easier this way. No fighting over who gets to use the shower first, and most importantly, no sleeping on the couch.”

His dad gives him a thoughtful look. “If you’re sure,” he says. “And you need to come over for dinner tonight.”

“Of course.”

“And bring Derek. He hasn’t been over in a while.”

“Don’t you two watch hockey or something every weekend?” Stiles stands. His hands have somehow found a pen to fidget with.

“Yes,” John says seriously. “Because somehow in a whole household of sporty werewolf and werewolf adjacent kids, not a single one of you appreciates sport.”

“I can see now I’ve done you wrong as a son,” Stiles says solemnly. “The least I can do is drag Derek along.”

“The very least,” his dad agrees.

Stiles moves around to give his dad a hug. “We’ll see you tonight then.”

***

Christmas morning dawns cold and foggy. It’s too early for the sun to rise and burn through the morning mist and the dim grey light that filters through the curtains does little to brighten the room.

Derek’s not sure what woke him but as he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling he realises he can hear Stiles moving around in his room next door. It’s earlier than Derek would normally get up and he’s cosy and warm, so he rolls back over intending to get at least another hour of sleep in before rising for the day.

The light tread of footsteps patters down the hall, pausing outside Derek’s bedroom. The door is thrown open and Stiles is there, hair sticking up all over the place and shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“It’s Christmas Derek!” His phone is in his hand and he taps it. The warbling tone of Mariah Carey drifts up from the loungeroom.

“ _Oooooh I- do-hn’t want a-lot for Christmas-“_

“No.” Derek rolls over and stuffs his pillow on top of his head.

“And guess what?”

“No.”

“It’s a certain grumpy werewolf’s birthday!”

 _“_ _-The-re’s just one thing I need-“_

“It’s too early Stiles,” Derek grumbles. His pillow does nothing to muffle the music which is getting louder. He raises his head to glare at Stiles. “I will end you,” he warns.

Stiles laughs and holds his phone up to his mouth like a microphone.

 _“_ _All I want for Christmas is you.”_

Derek throws his pillow at the door. Stiles ducks out of the way and dashes down the hall. Derek can hear his fluffy socks slide against the hardwood. With a groan he throws off his covers and stands.

“It’s 6am on Christmas,” Derek complains, stomping out of his room.

“Exactly!” Stiles is hovering at the end of the corridor. “It’s Christmas! Oh my god, hurry up!”

“For what? Jesus Stiles, is this what you were like as a kid because-“ the words die in Derek’s throat as he reaches the end of the hallway. “How- how did you…?” His living room has been transformed with twinkling coloured lights running along the windows and a tinsel wrapped tree in the corner. “This is…”

“Surprise! Happy Birthmas!” Stiles falls into one of the lounge chairs, arms spread wide.

“How on earth did you manage this without waking me?” Derek asks.

“With great difficulty and my super ninja skills.” Stiles shifts over so that Derek can sit too. “Actually,” he adds, “I didn’t think I’d be able to do it. I was one hundred percent sure you’d wander out and catch me dragging the tree in or something. You’re getting soft buddy.”

“No, I’m not,” Derek grumbles. “Is this it then? Can I go back to bed now?”

“What?” Stiles looks scandalised. “No, it’s _Christmas_ Derek!”

“Yeah, I think you’ve said that three times now.” Derek tells him. “Doesn’t change the fact you woke me at the ass crack of dawn on a holiday-”

“The best holiday!”

“- and my birthday.” Derek talks over him, ignoring the interruption. “You know I can and will kick you out of my house.”

“Noo, Dad said I’m not allowed to go over until after 10am.”

“I wonder why that could be?”

“Rude.” Stiles hops up from the couch. “And to think I got you a present.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, of course I did, man. Here.” Stiles walks over to the tree. There is a single wrapped present sitting underneath half decorated in Christmas paper and half in birthday paper. Stiles sits on the floor to reach for the present.

“Wait.”

Stiles turns back to Derek. “What?”

“Just… one moment.”

Derek rushes back to his bedroom to grab the present he’d wrapped for Stiles. It’s been sitting up in his wardrobe for weeks. When he returns he goes to hand it to Stiles.

“Nope,” Stiles says, pulling his hands behind his back. “You have to put it under the tree.”

“Really?” Derek asks, standing there.

Stiles says nothing.

“Fine,” he sits on the carpet and puts the present under the tree.

“Now we can open them together.” Stiles says.

“No,” Derek. “Coffee first.” He gets up and moves towards the kitchen. Stiles is practically vibrating in place as he watches Derek fill and start the coffee maker. He potters around the kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew, making a show of unpacking the dishwasher and putting things away.

When he finally returns with to mugs of coffee, Stiles glares at him.

“You took your time on purpose.”

Derek shrugs. “You made me get up before the sun was up. I’m going to make you wait for presents.”

“This is an outrage.” Stiles makes grabby hands at the second mug of coffee Derek is holding.

“You’ll get over it.”

“You’re worse than my Dad.”

“Do you want the present or not?”

“Yes! I can’t believe you got me a present.”

***

They head over to the Stilinski house at around 11am. Stiles is chomping at the bit to go and unwrap more presents with family and Derek is looking forward to foisting him off on someone else. It’s loud and boisterous as the Stilinski men try and work out who got the gag gift.

Stiles tears the wrapping paper off a dilapidated old cardboard box, crowing in delight. “It’s mine again!” He opens the flap, face falling as he pulls out a rock. “What is this?” He demands, shooting his Dad a dirty look. “This is your doing.”

The Sheriff bites back a laugh. “Don’t look at me,” he says. “It wasn’t my turn.”

Stiles digs through the box pulling out more rocks. At the bottom of the box there is an Xbox gift card. “Don’t think I’ll forgive you that easily.” He turns to Scott who had gifted him the card. “Thanks man.”

“You should have seen your face,” Scott laughs. “Worth it.”

Stiles scowls, “Who’d you give it to?”

“Oh, Derek,” Kira hands over another present. “This one’s for you.”

Derek looks up in genuine delight. “You really didn’t have to.” He starts unwrapping the large present, his lips twitch infinitesimally. “Uh, thanks?” The struggle to remain genuine is clear on his face.

“You gave it to Derek?!” Stiles screeches, mock outraged.

“I don’t understand.” Derek pulls the last of the paper off the large jar of bar soap.

“It’s decorative,” the Sheriff says defensively. It sounds like an old argument.

“In what universe?” Stiles argues. “It’s cheap hand soap you bought at the supermarket.” Stiles turns on Scott, “I can’t believe you gave it to Derek. He’ll probably actually use it.”

“Yeah, because I have hygiene standards, unlike you.” Derek teases.

“You’re part of the family now,” Melissa tells Derek solemnly. “That soap’s been doing the rounds for what, five years?”

“It was a heartfelt gift,” John defends. “And you all treat it like a joke.”

“It was a panic purchase on Christmas Eve,” Stiles laughs. “He hadn’t had time to get me anything for Christmas, so he bought a dollar store jar and a bunch of those multipacks of soap.”

“And my son had the absolute audacity to regift it back to me the next year.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Stiles teases. “It’s supposed to come in the box,” he points out the one his gift card had been in, “but Scott is a duplicitous fiend. What can you expect from the one engaged to a trickster?”

Kira bumps shoulders with Derek. “I got it last year.”

“Ah, so it was _your_ idea then!” Stiles nudges Derek with his foot. “We’ll just have to think of a way to get them back next year.”

“Maybe I want to keep it,” Derek grins. “It’s a nice jar. I could put it on the hall table.”

“Don’t even think about it!” Stiles warns. “I will never come to your place ever again.”

“Oh, then I’m definitely putting it on display.”

“That’s it, we’re not friends anymore.” Stiles stands to collect wrapping paper, shoving Derek over on his way past to the recycling bin.

The house is beginning to smell of baked goods and once they’ve finished unwrapping presents Stiles and Scott go to help Melissa in the kitchen.

Not long after Erica and Boyd turn up for lunch after spending the morning with their own families.

It’s cramped around the table with eight people, but they make it work, passing around food and drink until everyone has a plate. The wolves might not be able to get drunk, but they give it their best shot with beer and wine and other alcoholic beverages.

As the humans of the group, John, Stiles and Melissa are very capable of drinking too much but know better than to try and keep up with the rest of the pack.

Stiles is feeling pleasantly buzzed when he drops down onto the sofa with Scott.

“I’m so full,” he groans, using one hand to rub his overstuffed belly. “I’m never eating ever again.”

“You say that now,” Scott tells him, “but I know from experience that you’ll stuff yourself again at dinner and complain all night.”

“Not _all_ night,” Stiles says. “I refuse to sleep on this couch, I’ll just get Derek to roll me home at some point.”

“Just because I don’t have to put up with it doesn’t mean it won’t be happening.” Scott points out.

“Fair point.” Stiles slouches down in his seat.

“Thanks for letting us stay in your room by the way.”

Stiles waves Scott off.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing you’ve got Derek.” Kira wanders over from the kitchen in time to chime in on their conversation. “Things would have been a bit cramped otherwise.”

“Tell me about it.” Stiles takes another sip from the beer he’s been nursing. He knows he should slow down if he wants to make it to dinner. “I still can’t believe Mel sold the house. We had so many memories in that place.”

“Well it’s not like she was living in it anymore.” Kira drops onto her fiancés’ lap, careful not to spill her wine. “It’s kinda sweet that your parents got together.”

“Took them long enough,” Stiles grumbles. “Do you know how long Scotty and I have been trying to set them up? We had it all planned out. Our room was going to have bunkbeds.”

“We could still do bunkbeds.” Scott points out. “They’d be a bit cramped now days,” he grins at Kira.

“Gross.” Stiles sits up. “I don’t want to hear about how you two are defiling my childhood bed. I’m going to go find Derek.”

He finds Derek in the kitchen with his Dad and Boyd. John’s unloading the dishwasher for Food Coma round two and Derek is helping him put things away.

“Why are you all wearing your _serious discussion_ faces?” Stiles asks as he hops up onto the bench.

“Boyd caught the scent of another werewolf this morning.” Derek puts away the last plate and leans back against the bench next to Stiles’ hanging legs.

“You think it could be a threat?” John asks.

Boyd shrugs. “It’s the holidays, people are moving around more. They’re probably just passing through.”

Derek nods his agreement. “Still we’ll keep an eye out. Just to be sure.”

“Mr Alpha over here,” Stiles teases, knocking his foot against Derek. “Who’d have thought you’d be good at this one day?”

“I was always good at this.” Derek frowns, and knocks Stiles’ leg away.

Boyd deadpans. “You were a terrible Alpha.”

“Is someone talking about Derek?” Erica and Melissa enter the kitchen. She and Stiles high-five while Derek does his best Oscar the Grouch impression.

“You guys don’t understand what it was like putting up with all of you,” Derek grumbles.

“Oh, I think we have some idea.” Melissa shares a look with John. “Now, all of you, out of my kitchen unless you’re helping me with dessert.”

***

“I can’t believe you have to go back to Berkeley soon.”

It’s well after midnight. Erica and Boyd have gone home, and Scott and Kira have disappeared upstairs. Stiles is just about ready to head off himself. After a long day of eating and drinking he’s ready to fall into bed and sleep forever.

“I’m only three hours away,” he reminds his Dad, “and I come and visit all the time. Besides, I’ve only got a couple more months and I’m done.

“You know what you’re going to do when you finish?”

“Not a clue.” Stiles catches sight of Derek wandering into the lounge room. “Derek! Take me home.” He makes an aborted attempt to get off the couch. “You might have to roll me out to the car though. Mama McCall your food was too good.”

Melissa chuckles, tiredly from where she sits, head resting on one hand, legs curled up underneath herself. “Glad to hear it,” she says. “Now get out of my house so I can go to bed.”

Stiles pouts, climbs slowly to his feet.

“I’ll see you guys for dinner tomorrow,” he promises and follows Derek out to the car.

As the car starts up outside, John stands, holding out his hand for Melissa. “I never thought I’d be happy to see my son dating Derek Hale.”

“They’re good for each other.” Melissa lets John pull her up onto her feet. “I’m happy for them.”

“Yeah.” The flash of headlights illuminates the living room as the car pulls out of the driveway. “Me too.”


	2. A Birthday

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” The answer is the same every time, but still Derek asks.

Erica gives him a pointed look and tucks a curl behind one ear. “Der, do you think I got dressed this morning with the intention of going running with you?” She doesn’t wait for Derek to point out that she’s still in her pajamas, she just steamrolls on. “No, I didn’t, because the last thing I want to do is sweat my way around the preserve like some animal when I could be sleeping.”

Boyd snorts from his spot on the couch. “I can’t believe you made her a werewolf,” he says, lacing his shows.

Derek sighs dramatically. “I regret the decision every day.” He ducks away from the playful jab Erica throws at him.

“No take backs.” Erica teases. She herds the boys towards the door. “Now get out of here. I want to go back to bed.” She raises up onto her tip toes to kiss Boyd goodbye and then waves them out onto the front step. “I’ll see you both later when it’s not the ass-crack of dawn.”

“It’s eight am,” Derek points out.

“I know, it’s disgusting!” Erica says, swinging the front door shut in their faces.

Derek and Boyd head down onto the sidewalk and begin their jog through the streets. As soon as they hit the start of one of the many trails that run through the preserve, they drop the pretense of human speed and pick up the pace. Out of the entire pack, Boyd is Derek’s favourite running partner. He’s the only person who understands the meaning of companionable silence. On the occasions he can get Erica to come, she complains the entire time. Scott and Kira both want to chat the whole way and pay no attention to the territory they’re supposed to be guarding. Honestly, they were made for one another. And Stiles, he talks more than Scott and Kira combined, but Derek doesn’t mind. The main issue with Stiles is that he gets distracted by every little thing, constantly disappearing off into the undergrowth to look at a plant or follow some animal, leaving Derek no choice but to chase after him in fear he’ll stumble into a bear… again.

It takes about two hours for Boyd and Derek to run the boundaries of the territory and return to town. They meet back up with Erica who is waiting for them at her favourite café.

“You got any big plans for today?” She asks, while they line up to order. “We’re going to see that new Marvel movie. Kira and Scott will be there. You should come too.”

Derek smiles and shakes his head. He’s always happy to hear how well the pack gets along now. It had been such a rocky start for them all, but now when he focuses on the bonds between them all, his connections to the pack feel strong and steady – even Isaac and Jackson, so far across the sea.

“Thanks, but I’ve actually already seen it,” he says, still smiling. “Stiles made me watch it last time I visited. It wasn’t that great, they-”

Erica slams her palm over Derek’s mouth. “Don’t you dare spoil this movie Derek Hale.”

“Anyway-“ The word is muffled by Erica’s hand. He waits, staring pointedly until she drops her hand.

The line has shuffled forward and they’re now at the front. The teenager at the coffee counter clears his throat and with a bored tone asks them what they want to order.

“Anyway,” Derek repeats once they’re all waiting to the side. “I’m actually heading up to meet Stiles this afternoon,” he says.

“I thought he was coming here,” Boyd says.

“He was planning to,” Derek explains. “But he was only able got his birthday off and didn’t want to waste fuel on such a short trip home.”

Erica’s name is called and she collects the two takeaway cups for herself and Boyd. “That sure is nice of you,” she says, handing Boyd his tea and nudging him with her hip. “Why don’t you do nice things like that for me?”

“Because we live together,” Boyd shrugs, mouth twitching. “The romance is dead.” He remains unmoved when Erica shoves him.

“It’s not a big deal,” Derek says. “I can afford it, so why not. Thought I’d surprise him and just turn up like he did to me over Christmas.” His name is called and he goes to collect his drink. 

Boyd and Erica leave soon after to meet Scott and Kira. Derek heads home with his coffee and potters around the house for the rest of the morning. It’s only a three-hour drive to Berkeley and he knows Stiles will be at work for most of the day. He leaves just after lunch and makes good time, driving into the city just after 4pm.

Stiles works at a small bookstore just a few blocks from his apartment. Derek finds a spot to park his car in the residential complex and makes the half hour walk to the bookshop to arrive just in time as Stiles is flicking the sign over from open to closed.

“Dude!” Stiles fumbles at the lock, his voice only partially muffled from behind the glass. “What are you doing here?” He opens the door fully to let Derek in.

“You seemed really disappointed that you couldn’t come home,” Derek explains. “So, I thought I would surprise you here.” He follows Stiles over to the counter and hops up onto the wooden top to watch Stiles pack up.

“This is awesome.” Stiles hits a button on the till so that the draw pops open. “As soon as I count this we can get out of here.”

They wander back to Stiles’ apartment, filling each other in on what’s been happening. It’s only been two weeks since Derek had last visited but with the looming threat of final exams and the extra shifts Stiles has been picking up, they haven’t had many chances to talk since.

His housemate James is sitting in the living room watching cartoons when they reach the apartment. He looks up when the front door slams. “Weren’t you like, just here the other day?” He asks grinning.

Stiles dumps his bag on the floor. “He surprised me for my birthday,” he says. “This is what true friendship looks like. Not that you would know.” They fall into their usual friendly teasing.

“Uh huh,” James drawls out, gaze flicking from Stiles to Derek, “Just don’t keep me up too late with your _friendship_ tonight. I’ve got an early shift tomorrow and these walls are paper thin.”

“Pft,” Stiles waves him off. “Like we’ll even be up that late.” He turns back to Derek. “I’m just going to get changed. Then we can go, okay?”

There’s a place not far from Stiles’ apartment that does burgers and beer. They head over, taking their time as they continue catching up. The weather has warmed considerably since Christmas and it’s a nice night. Stiles talks about the major assignment he’s working on and Derek talks about his latest renovation project.

“I can’t believe you let Dad talk you in to helping him,” Stiles groans, pushing open the door to the restaurant. “You know it’s never going to end, as soon as you’ve finished the back porch he’ll find something else he wants help with.”

“I don’t mind.” Derek says. They sit down and order, they’ve both been there often enough to know what they want without looking at a menu. “It was kind of my idea in the first place.”

“That’s what he wants you to think.” At Derek’s questioning glance Stiles exclaims, “he’s a cop! He’s good with his words, he probably said something about how he’s always wanted to fix it but just never had the time and he’s all guilt and sadness and then suddenly you find yourself offering to do it.”

“That’s… okay, that’s only part of how it happened.”

Their drinks arrive and Derek is quick to thank the waitress and move on to a new topic, but Stiles won’t budge.

“Is he paying you at least?”

Derek toys with the label on his drink. “He’s paying for the materials. And the food.”

“Let me guess. Beers?” Stiles asks, clinking his bottle against Derek’s. “Take out?” He gestures around the room. "Which he of course is also partaking in?”

“I mean-“

“He double whammied you! Oh, I am so going to call him tonight.” Stiles flails, barely avoiding the waitress who is back to deliver their food. He apologises sheepishly and asks for two more beers.

Derek stays quiet through the short interaction until the silence drags on long enough to become awkward. He glances up at Stiles, who’s staring at him with a smug expression plastered across his face.

He mutters something under his breath and drags his plate closer.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles leans forward, “I didn’t hear that.”

“I enjoy the work.” Derek growls.

Stiles laughs, head thrown back exposing the long line of his throat. “I know you do. Just maybe chill with the fast food.” He shoves a few fries in his mouth.

“It’s not like we eat it every night.” Derek tells him defensively. “And your Dad is actually pretty healthy.”

“Nope, you have a responsibility now.” Stiles reaches for the ketchup and proceeds to drown the rest of his fries. “You have joined the ranks of the John Stilinksi diet brigade.”

Derek frowns, burger halfway to his mouth. “That’s a terrible name.”

“The John Stilinski Salad Squad?”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

*

Contrary to Stiles’ promise to his housemate, he and Derek are up until late chatting about what’s been happening in each other’s lives.

They’re woken up early by Stiles’ housemate banging around the kitchen. Stiles groans and rolls over at the particularly loud slam of the front door then looks across at Derek.

“Yeah, we deserved that,” he mumbles around a yawn.

It’s still dark outside so Derek tugs the covers back up to his ears and goes back to sleep.

The next time they wake it’s to the shrill ringtone Stiles has assigned to his dad. Derek can hear Stiles scrambling to answer.

“Hey Dad,” Stiles rolls over onto his back, one fist rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Thanks. Yeah, Derek’s here,” he steals a glance across at the werewolf, “oh and by the way you’re in so much trouble! Don’t think that I don’t know what you’re doing, conning Derek into takeout.”

Wincing at outing the Sheriff, Derek purposefully tunes out to avoid eavesdropping on the rest of the conversation. He gets up, taking the opportunity to shower and change while Stiles’ on the phone. When he returns, Stiles is sitting up on the bed, a huge grin on his face.

“Hey Derek, guess what?” He asks, throwing back the covers. “It’s my birthday!”

Derek give him an exasperated look, but his lips a twitching like he’s trying not to smile. “You are such a child.”

“Hey,” Stiles stands up. “I’m twenty-three! I am an adult behaving in a very adult-y manner.”

Derek shoves him on to the bed, giving up his stern pretense and laughing. “A child.”

*

At 6pm they climb into the Camaro and drive over to Stiles’ favourite Mexican restaurant. Over the course of dinner, Derek gets to meet all of Stiles’ university friends. He’s met a couple of them before. James is there laughing at something Stiles says, all earlier offenses apparently forgiven.

It’s not a huge event. It’s Sunday and most of them have either work or classes in the morning, but Stiles still manages to get epically wasted on a fishbowl sized frozen margarita. He’s pressed up against Derek, loudly laughing at someone sitting up the other end of the table.

“So how did you two meet?”

The question comes from Derek’s left, but before he can answer Stiles is leaning across him butting in to answer the question.

“I was trespassing with Scotty.” He knocks his elbow into the bowl of guacamole, his spatial awareness decreasing as the alcohol in his system increases. “Sarah, you remember Scotty yeah? Anyway, we were looking for dead bodies.”

Sarah’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Derek rescues his drink from Stiles’ flailing limbs.

Sarah turns to Derek. “And what were you doing?”

With the distance of time Derek is at the point where he can find the humour in this story. Laura would have found it hilarious. “I was getting arrested-“

“-‘cos my Dad thought he was the murderer.”

“Because you _told_ him I was the murderer.”

All eyes around the table are focused on them now. Sarah’s mouth has fallen open in shock. “Oh my god,” she asks. “Were you?”

Stiles barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t let the eyebrows fool you. Derek’s marshmallow goo.” He sits up, bumping his shoulder into Derek.

“You guys are so cute.”

“Excuse you,” Stiles pouts in mock offence. “I’m adorable.”

It’s getting late, so they settle the bill and head their separate ways.

*

The next morning Derek gets ready to head back to Beacon Hills. He’s got a shift that afternoon and wants to get on the road early enough to beat the morning traffic out of the city.

Stiles is nursing a hangover in the kitchen and contemplating skipping his first class. He picks at his toast weighing up the pros and cons of putting something in his unsettled stomach.

“I’m not sure I’ll get the chance to hang out again before the end of semester,” he says, making up his might and nibbling at the bread. “School is getting pretty crazy. The next time I see you I’ll probably be a graduate.” He shudders. “That’s terrifying.”

Derek sits and leans down to tug on his shoes. “Any idea what you’re going to do when you graduate?”

“That question is banned in this house.” Stiles drops his head onto his folded arms and sighs. “Everyone keeps asking, but honestly, I still don’t know.”

“Hey, no pressure.” Derek straightens up and snags the untouched slice of toast of Stiles’ plate.

“Hey!” Stiles tries to snatch back his breakfast, regretting it immediately when the pounding in his head ratchets up a notch.

Derek scoots the chair back and out of Stiles’ reach. “Too slow,” he says, grinning.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Derek stands and places his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, draining the pain of his headache until all that remains is a slight pressure behind his eyes.

Stiles sags bonelessly against the chair. “No, I don’t,” he agrees.

*

Derek is back in Beacon Hills with enough time for a run through the preserve to stretch his legs after sitting in the car for three hours. He’s on his way home when he stumbles across a scent that stops him in his tracks. 

He thumbs through his phone contact and waits for the call to connect.

 _“Hey Derek, how is my son? Has he forgiven me yet for the takeout?”_ The Sheriff’s voice is tinny through the speaker. 

“He hasn’t forgiven either of us,” Derek says, stepping further into the undergrowth. “But, uh this isn’t a social call.” He stops a few feet from the body. “There’s a dead werewolf in the preserve. Smells like it’s been here a couple of days, at least.” He wants to get closer but doesn’t want to disturb the scene.

He hears the sigh echo down the line and shares the Sheriff’s uneasiness. Beacon Hills residents have enjoyed almost eighteen months of peace and quiet from the supernatural. This break in the pattern did not bode well.

_“How far out are you?”_

Derek looks around to get his bearings. He hadn’t been taking any particular route through the forest, but he knows he’s close to one of the walking tracks. “I think I’m near the Clearwater Road entrance,” he says. “I can come down and meet you at the start of the track.”

John agrees and they end the call.

Knowing it’ll take them at least forty minutes to reach him, Derek takes the time to shed his clothing and shift completely. As a wolf he can get close enough to the body to scent it without leaving any human evidence.

Under the almost overwhelming stench of decay, Derek can barely pick up traces of the werewolf’s natural scent but it’s there, along with two other scents lingering on the body. The first- Derek thinks it must belong to another person. It’s faint and Derek is confident it doesn’t belong to the dead ‘were. Given it’s still there after a few days this other person must have been around the wolf very soon before his death, or perhaps even caused it. There’s something familiar about it but Derek can’t place it.

The other scent is wolfsbane.

Having reached his limit, Derek returns to his clothes and dresses quickly before hiking down to the meeting point.

He only has to wait about ten minutes before the squad cars turn up. In the years since Scott was bitten, the Sheriff has worked to get select members of his team up to speed with the supernatural. Given the large number of strange occurrences, weird coincidences and just general bat-shit craziness of Beacon Hills at times, most officers took the news of the supernatural in their stride.

Derek is well known down at the station. He’s often called upon to give his opinion on a case with possible supernatural connections, and he greets the deputies that turn up. He leads them up to the body and gives a short statement about how he found it.

They let him go as more people turn up to retrieve the body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me (has never seen a real life bear): Do you think Stiles, with the confidence of a werewolf protector, would follow a bear?
> 
> Housemate (has seen a bear): What? No! Bears are dangerous! They’re terrifying!
> 
> Me: Nah, it’d be fine. Derek would protect him.
> 
> Housemate: Bears kill wolves!
> 
> Me: But consider this... Derek’s a werewolf.
> 
> Housemate: no...but...just... no!
> 
> Me: ...fine...
> 
> Me: ...
> 
> Me: ... what about a mountain lion?
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Anyway....
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Check out my [Tumblr](https://tails89.tumblr.com/) (I love prompts)


	3. Graduation

The investigation into the dead werewolf is a complete bust on both the supernatural and non-supernatural fronts. Attempts to identify the body get them nowhere and there are exactly zero potential suspects. Derek contacts Chris Argent who does some digging within the hunter communities but comes up with no leads. As far as anyone knows, or are willing to confess, there are no hunters in Beacon Hills.

Derek doesn’t believe this for a second, but it’s been two months since he found the body and things have been quiet since. After first finding the body, Derek had insisted that the pack move about in pairs, but with no further incidents everyone’s started to relax and preparations for Scott and Kira’s wedding are back in full swing.

Watching Scott and Kira gush about their wedding plans, Derek can’t help but miss Stiles. The joking texts he’s been sending, making fun of Scott’s pre-wedding nerves have slowed to a trickle and they haven’t had many opportunities to chat in the lead up to Stiles’ final exams.

Their almost daily Skype calls are reduced to a scant few minutes once a week as Stiles buries himself in revision work and final projects. Feeling strangely alone, Derek finds himself over at the busy Stilinski-McCall house most afternoons. He helps John renovate the kitchen and they sit out on the new back porch drinking beer, talking about work and baseball and often, Stiles.

Despite the threats, Derek can’t bring himself to say no to the man who’s been like a father to him for the last four years. So, they drink their beer and eat their burgers and Derek keeps his mouth shut when Stiles finally has time to call.

*

It’s late in May and Derek is walking home when his phone rings. Without looking at the screen, he can tell who it is by the ringtone. Stiles doesn’t even give Derek time to speak before he’s crowing down the line.

_“Dobby is a free elf!”_

Derek rolls his eyes fondly. “Hi Stiles.”

_“I did it Der! I just finished my last exam! I’m done.”_

Derek can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. “That’s awesome Stiles. When do you get the marks back?”

 _“Uh.”_ Derek can hear other voices in the background- other students celebrating completing their last exam. _“It’ll be a week or two,”_ Stiles says. _“And then graduation will be a few weeks after that.”_

“I’m looking forward to it,” Derek tells him sincerely.

 _“Me too,”_ Stiles says. _“I can’t wait.”_

*

Stiles’ graduation day rolls around faster than Derek expected. He’s the last of the pack to graduate having spent his first year constantly changing his mind before finally settling on a degree path. Almost the entire pack is there to watch him walk across the stage, cheering loudly when Stiles name is called. Erica wolf whistles when Stiles receives his diploma. Stiles grins at his family, giving them a jaunty wave before trotting off stage.

Once all the photos have been taken – Stiles requests photos which each individual member of the pack – they head out for dinner.

It’s a noisy affair. With Isaac back from France it’s the closest they’ve been to a complete pack in four years. They’re only missing Lydia, who’s still in New York, and Jackson who has been living in London.

*

The day after graduation, John heads around to Stiles’ apartment to pick up some things to take back to Beacon Hills. He steps into the apartment after Stiles lets him in, casting his gaze around the open living space.

“You haven’t even started packing,” he says, moving towards the kitchen.

Stiles follows behind him. “I’ve got three more days of work before I can come home,” he argues, heading straight for the far bench. “There’ll be heaps of time to pack.”

He turns on the coffee machine. He’d had a late night, catching up with the pack and had only woken twenty-minutes ago when his dad texted that he was coming over.

John takes in his son’s pajamas and messy hair. “Jeez kiddo, what time did you go to bed last night?”

“Late,” Stile grins and reaches for two mugs, holding up one in question. At his dad’s nod, he starts fixing two cups of coffee. “It was lucky my housemate was out. We weren’t exactly quiet and he usually get’s annoyed when we keep him up.”

John grimaces, not particularly keen on hearing about his son’s sex life and hurries the conversation on. “Where _is_ Derek?” He asks.

“He and Isaac have gone to, uh-” Stiles’ brows crease in thought. “I dunno, do something wolf-y? Derek mentioned something yesterday about one of the regional parks.” He passes over a coffee. “He’s been itching to get in some quality bonding time since Isaac got back. He’s probably dragged him out for a run. Isaac’ll hate it.”

It’s a nice morning, so Stiles leads his dad out to sit on the little balcony that overlooks the apartment complex parking lot.

“So,” John starts between mouthfuls of coffee, returning to the topic of the move. “How _are_ you planning to get all your stuff back to Beacon Hills?”

Glancing back through the door into the lounge room, Stiles just shrugs. “There really isn’t that much here,” he says. “The furniture belongs to the apartment, so it’s mostly just my clothes, laptop and some things from my room.”

John nods, conceding that perhaps this time, leaving things to the last minute isn’t going to end in disaster for his kid.

“I suppose you’re going to move in with Derek now that you’ve graduated.”

Stiles pauses, coffee halfway to his mouth. “Move in with Derek?” He repeats the words slowly, not sure what his Dad is suggesting. “I hadn’t- I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Oh,” John is surprised. “I just thought-“

“You just want me out of the house, don’t you,” Stiles teases. “Once Scott and Kira are married, you and Mel will have the place all to yourselves.”

“What?” John is quick to reassure his son. “No. I just thought- I guess I assumed that’s what you’d want to do.”

“Calm down Dad, I'm just teasing,” Stiles laughs. “It’s actually a pretty good idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it. I’ll talk to Derek about it, see if he’s okay with me moving in.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s not going to have a problem with it.” John finishes his coffee. “Trust you to leave these things to the last minute. You’re hopeless.”

Stiles let’s his jaw drop in false indignation. “Excuse you,” he scoffs, puffing out his chest. “ _I_ am a college graduate.”

John chuckles. “You and me both kiddo, you’re not special.”

“Rude.” Stiles drains his coffee. “So rude and cruel to your only son.”

His dad laughs. “I’m sure in time the pain will heal.” He goes silent and turns to Stiles, eyes shining. “Your mom would be so proud of you, kid," he says. "We both are."

“Thanks Dad.”

*

Three days later, Stiles throws his possessions haphazardly into his Jeep. He wants to get home with enough time to unpack before it gets dark, but in true Stiles Stilinski fashion, he’s put off pack until the last minute. Now he’s frantically trying to Tetris everything into the car so he can get on the road.

He resigns himself to most likely forgetting something and decides if he does, the thing probably wasn’t that important to begin with. He’s impatient to go, so he says his final goodbyes to James, making promise to catch-up sometime and hits the road.

The drive home lasts forever but by 3pm, Stiles is pulling into the driveway of his new home.

Derek’s waiting for him when he climbs out of the car, having heard the familiar rumble of the Jeep from the next street. 

“How was the drive?” He asks, rising from his position on the porch.

Stiles stretches. He’d always been too lanky for the Jeep, even as a sixteen-year-old, and his legs feel cramped after the three-hour trip.

“It took forever,” he groans, moving around the side of the car to open the back and lunging for the shoes that come tumbling out when he opens the door.

Derek watches on in quiet amusement as more objects begin to drop triggering an avalanche of clothing, pillows and books.

“How did you get all this in here in the first place?” He asks, making no move to help.

Stiles looks up sheepishly. “I kinda just… threw it all in over the front seat,” he confesses.

Under the loose items of clothing, Stiles had the good sense to pack at least some of his belongings in boxes. Derek helps him carry everything into his new room.

As Stiles unloads the last box from his Jeep, he goes to lock up. Seeing him fumble with the keys, Derek takes them off him to lock up the car and they head inside. Stiles heads down the hall to his room and sits on his bed, wondering where to begin with the unpacking.

Derek appears in the doorway with Stiles’ car keys.

“Here,” he adds a new key to the keychain and then hands them over.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Stiles asks Derek, rising to retrieve his keys. “I didn’t mean to spring the whole moving in thing on you, but when Dad suggested it, it seemed like a pretty good idea.”

“It’s fine.” Derek crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorframe. “You can stay here as long as you want.”

“Thanks man.” Flopping back onto the bed, Stiles says, “I still can’t believe Dad kicked me out!”

Derek rolls his eyes at the dramatics. “Did he though?”

“It was heavily implied.” Stiles props himself up on his elbow. He waves off Derek’s skeptical look. “Okay, fine, but it makes sense.” He sits up and reaches for the first box. “Scott and Kira have been staying with Dad and Mel because it’s cheaper than renting but they’re moving out after the wedding. I wanted to stay there too so that I don’t have to pay rent.”

Derek’s expression softens. “You don’t have to pay rent here.”

“What?” Stiles looks up sharply, mouth hanging opening. He shakes his head. “Of course, I’m going to pay you rent! Who do you think I am?”

“It’s fine,” Derek brushing him off. “This place is paid off. You can buy groceries.”

Stiles snorts and throws a t-shirt at the werewolf. “No way, I’ve seen how you eat. I’ll be broke by the end of the week.”

Derek dodges the shirt, and leaves Stiles to unpack.

He paces around the house for an hour, looking for something to do. He’s full of restless energy and needs something to keep his hands occupied. The full moon is only a few days away and he’s feeling twitchy with the need to run. It has settled somewhat since Stiles arrived- it’s always easier with Pack around, but Derek’s going to need another run before he goes to bed or he’ll be tossing all night.

Stiles is lying on his bed when Derek knocks on his door. Stiles eyes his basketball shorts and sneakers suspiciously.

“What do you want?” he asks, slowly.

“We’re going for a run,” Derek tells him.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Who is "we" in this scenario?” He asks. “I’m not going running. I spent the whole day moving.”

Derek looks pointedly at the boxes and clothing littered around the room. “You haven’t even unpacked yet.”

“Exactly.” Stiles says, making a show of folding a pair of jeans. “I still have too much to do. You’re the werewolf, you go for the run and tell me how it was.”

Derek doesn’t budge from the doorway. He stares Stiles down until the human sighs.

“Fine,” Stiles says, rummaging around for his shoes. “But we run at my pace.”

He takes his time switching his pants to shorts and tugging on his sneakers and eventually trudged out of his bedroom.

Derek is pacing by the front door waiting for him.

They jog out into the street. It’s a nice evening, the sky is streaked with reds and oranges and the moon hangs high above them. Stiles complains for the first few minutes, but is soon distracted and talking about other things.

Derek lets him, humming affirmative noises where appropriate. Listening to Stiles talk isn’t the same chore it is with other people. Derek likes the sound of his voice, enjoys listening to the stories Stiles tells. He’s always considered himself an introvert, drawing energy from the quiet moments and comfortable silences. Derek’s never been big on crowds and gets anxious when people are in his personal space. But with Stiles it’s different. Here in this moment, with Stiles chatting next to him, it’s invigorating. It’s-

Derek skids to a halt.

“Hey, what is it?” Stiles catches up quickly, slowing to a walk as he closes the last few feet. The air is still and heavy around them, promising to be a hot and humid night.

Derek steps off the track into the trees. “There’s a really familiar scent.” He crouches low among the grass. “I can’t place where it’s from, but-“ he shuffles further into the brush. “I know it from somewhere.”

There’s still enough ambient light that Stiles can see Derek crouching in the leaves. He follows him off the path. “It’s a well-used track,” he reasons. He taps on his phone screen and a light flicks on from the torch. It ruins his night vision, but at least he can see where he’s putting his feet. “You run it all the time, you’re bound to come across the same people occasionally.”

Derek shakes his head. “It’s not that.”

Stiles steps around Derek and shines his light into the trees. “Hello?” He calls into the increasing dark. He hears a snort from him.

“They’re not here anymore,” Derek says amused.

Stiles half turns. “Yeah well I don’t know that,” he huffs. “I don’t have your super sniffer.” He boops Derek on the nose. “Oh.” Turning, something catches his eye and Stiles marches off into the bushes.

“Stop!”

Stiles is yanked back by a hand gripping his shirt.

“What?” Stiles stumbles back against Derek, heart pounding in his chest. “What is it?”

Derek takes Stiles’ torch and shines it on the trip wire. The beam of light traces the wire across to a tree and up into the branches. Hand on Stiles’ shoulder, Derek carefully guides the younger man back a few paces and then edges in front of him. Once they reach a safe distance, Derek picks up a large stick and tosses it at the trap to trip the mechanism.

A crossbow bolt shoots past, disappearing into the dark.

“Jesus _fuck_!” Stiles scrambles back onto the path. “Why is there a trap out here?”

Derek follows Stiles back onto the track, extra careful of his footing. He stares at the space where the trap is hidden. “I don’t know,” he says. “But I think I recognise the scent. Come on.” He beckons Stiles back in the direction of the house. “We need to let the others know.”

Stiles shoots a text to Scott, telling him to get the pack together. “Yeah, okay. Let’s get out of here.”

By the time they get back to the house, Scott has rounded up the rest of the pack. He and Kira have a spare key, so everyone is sitting around in living room when Stiles and Derek return.

Stiles heads to the kitchen for a class of water while Derek fills the pack in on what they found in the Preserve. When he returns, there isn’t much room for him to sit, so he leans up against the wall.

“You said you recognised the scent,” Stiles prompts once Derek’s finished telling the others what they found. He rests a hand on the werewolf’s shoulder to halt the pacing.

Derek clenches his teeth and nods. The energy of the almost full moon, plus the adrenaline of finding a hunters trap has him keyed up more than he’d been before the run.

“The werewolf I found in March; his body had the same scent,” he explains. “But I don’t think that’s the first time I noticed it.” He takes in the paling expressions of the pack. “I think I’ve smelled it in town somewhere, but it never seemed important before now.”

“You think it could be a hunter?” Scott asks.

“Why else would the same scent be on a dead werewolf and on a trap?” Stiles points out.

Boyd frowns. “It doesn’t add up,” he says. “You found that body more than two months ago. Other than that, it’s been quiet. We would have noticed if the hunter was still in town.”

Beside him, Erica is curling a ringlet around her finger. “Maybe they were hunting just the one wolf?” She looks up at Derek. “And they forgot to take down the trap.”

“The trap is recent.” Derek resumes his pacing, pulling away from the comfort of Stiles’ touch. “The scent wouldn’t last more than a couple of days, particularly with the rain we had last week. Plus, the longer the trap is set, the more likely it would be tripped by an animal. No, if it is a hunter, they’re still in town.”

Kira looks thoughtful, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. “It still doesn’t mean they’re looking for us.” Her expression turns hopeful. “Like Erica said, maybe they were just after the werewolf. Maybe he hurt someone. We haven’t hurt anyone. No one has been bitten in Beacon Hills in years.”

“That doesn’t make this hunter any less dangerous,” Stiles cuts in. He pushes away from the wall to stand beside Derek. “I’ll talk to my Dad, see if he’s heard anything. They might have gone to the station, asked about any weird deaths, that kind of thing.”

“Because that worked last time,” Isaac says, rolling his eyes. “Good to know things haven’t changed much since I left.”

“In the meantime, no one goes out alone.” Derek says, ignoring the collective groans of the pack. “Bigger groups would be better, but pairs at the very least. And make sure you keep your phones on you at all times.”

“Yes Dad.” Isaac says it and Stiles snickers.

“Don’t encourage him,” Derek growls, giving Stiles a gentle shove. He’s all bark and no bite, and Stiles knows this, so he just grins.

“I’ll let it drop if you buy us pizza,” Stile negotiates. He’s already turned on the TV and is flicking through the Netflix catalogue.

“Really Stiles?” Scott asks. “You’re going to blackmail Derek for pizza?”

“Uh, no,” Stiles scoffs. “First of all, this is extortion.” He holds out his hand for Derek’s phone, knowing UberEats is already set up with Derek’s payment details. “Second of all, when have you ever turned down free pizza?”

Derek hands over the phone, catching the wink and smirk Stiles directs at him before launching into a tirade about why Scott is not allowed to choose the movie. He stares, trying to process the feelings that one look has just stirred in him, ever appreciative of Stiles’ ability to lighten any mood.

By the time the pizza arrives they’ve all settled into their places around the television. Derek sits on the floor next to Stiles, who is still animatedly bickering with Scott.

Stiles turns to Derek, bumping his shoulder against the werewolf to grab his attention and rolling his eyes at the way Scott is hotly defending the last Star Wars movie.

In that moment, despite the hunter lurking in his territory, despite _everything,_ Derek is content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to put it out there... I have no idea how college/university works in the US. I finished uni in May and then my graduation wasn't until the end of September but.. y'know.. **artistic liberties**
> 
> Big thanks to my housemate [An_Optimist_Prime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Optimist_Prime) for putting up with my rambling about how dumb these boys are and how much I love them.
> 
> Also, come join me on [Tumblr](https://tails89.tumblr.com/) or send me a prompt :)
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed it, please kudos or leave a comment if you did!


	4. A Wedding

On the surface, living with Stiles is surprisingly easy. Over the last six weeks he and Derek have fallen into a comfortable routine. They work well together, taking turns to cook and clean and only occasionally fighting over what to watch on Netflix. Once a week, they head over to the Stilinski-McCall house. Overall, it’s… nice.

But deeper, beneath the bright façade of companionable domesticity, Derek’s thoughts are spinning.

Lately, he’s been _noticing_ things. Little things, like the way Stiles will throw his legs into Derek’s lap when he wants to stretch out on the couch. Or the way he’ll press in close to steal bites of Derek’s takeout because, “Indian food is for sharing Der” and then stay there, tucked tight into Derek’s side.

And, well… Derek knows Stiles doesn’t act any differently around him compared to the rest of the pack, at least not in any way discernible by Derek. Stiles is just a tactile person, getting into everyone’s personal space.

Derek can’t explain why this feels different, why this isn’t just Stiles’ usual friendly affection. He has no proof other subconscious desire for it to be so.

Stiles would joke, if he knew. He’d made some crack about sniffing out the truth. Derek would tell him for the hundredth time his senses don’t work like that. But he wishes they did, because whatever this _thing_ is he can feel between them… Derek likes it.

He almost says something, one warm summer morning as they’re getting ready to meet up with the others. He stops himself before he’s even opened his mouth, scared that perhaps he’s just projecting his newfound feelings on Stiles, and that’s not fair.

So, Derek stays quiet, practicing the words he might say once he’s worked up the courage to force them past his lips. He thinks, maybe it’s better this way. It’s not like any of his past relationships had worked out. Every single one has ended in disaster, and Derek doesn’t want that for Stiles.

This is for the best.

*

“Cora’s arriving on Friday, yeah?” Stiles asks one morning around a mouthful of pancake. “I overheard you talking to her last night.”

“Yeah.” Derek looks up from his own considerably shorter stack.

“Okay.” Stiles nods once. “I’ll take the couch, then.”

Derek makes a small, quizzical noise and looks up.

“I don’t mind.” Stiles says quickly, tone reassuring. “She’s your sister. She should get the spare room.”

Derek can feel his brows knit together in confusion. “We don’t have a spare room,” he says slowly, placing emphasis on _we_ hoping Stiles will understand. 

“You do, you-“

“That’s your room.” Derek cuts in before Stiles can start spouting excuses. “I’m not going to kick you out. Cora can sleep on the couch.”

Stiles looks perplexed at this suggestion, his mouth working open and shut. “But, she’s your sister.”

“Cora’s knows you live here,” Derek reminds him. “And, she’s been planning this visit for weeks. She knows sleeping options are limited.” He starts collecting up their plates to take to the sink. “If she wasn’t happy with the couch she would have arranged to stay with someone else.”

Stiles doesn’t respond to this, but there’s a determined glint in his eye that Derek doesn’t like. He knows Stiles isn’t going to just let this go. 

Derek decides to let it drop for now. Cora’s not due to arrive for another three days. Hopefully by then he can talk some sense into Stiles.

*

He doesn’t, because he forgets.

Derek’s at work when Cora arrives. By the time he gets home and let’s himself into the house, he can hear Stiles and Cora chatting down the corridor in Stiles’ room.

It’s been tidied to the point you would never know someone lived there and they’re sitting on fresh scented sheets when Derek pops his head into the room.

“Hey, Der!” Cora leaps up off the bed to give her big brother a hug.

He returns the embrace, staring at Stiles over Cora’s shoulder.

Derek corners Stiles later, while the human is brushing his teeth.

“What are you doing?”

Stiles gestures to his toothbrush, then turns to the sink to rinse and spit.

“You know what I mean.” Derek keeps his voice low. Cora is across the hall in Stiles’ bedroom and he would like to keep her from listening in. “I told you, you didn’t have to give up your room.”

“It’s only a couple of nights.”

“That’s not the point,” Derek says. He wonders why he’s wasting his energy on an argument he’s not going to win.

“Yeah, well it’s too late now,” Stiles points out.

He’s right, Derek knows he’s right and he’s ready to give up. He goes to say so, but instead, what comes out is;

“You could stay in my room.” The words tumble from his lips before his brain can catch up and he freezes at the realisation of what he just said.

Stiles stares, bottom lip caught in his teeth as the contemplates Derek’s suggestion.

“Where are you going to sleep?” He stumbles over the words, as his heartrate spikes.

“In my room,” Derek answers slowly.

They stand opposite each other in the bathroom. Derek can’t read Stiles’ expression. He can hear the racing of his heart though and prepares for the rejection.

But then Stiles just nods. “Okay. Cool.” He drops his toothbrush into the cup beside the sink and disappears towards the main bedroom.

Derek stares after him, struggling to process what just happened, before following Stiles out. He gathers a pair of sleep shorts and a singlet, changing in the bathroom before cleaning his own teeth.

The bedroom is softly lit by one of the bedside lamps and Derek climbs into the bed beside Stiles. It’s late, so he turns out the light and rolls onto his side with his back to Stiles.

He lies there, eyes closed, hyper-aware of every little shuffle and sigh from the other side of the bed until sleep finally takes him.

*

The morning of Scott and Kira’s wedding, the sun peaks out from behind dark storm clouds. Derek is woken by the chirp of Stiles’ phone. At some point he’d rolled over in the nice and he’s facing into the middle of the bed.

He watches through half-lidded eyes, a slight uptick to his mouth, as Stiles gropes blindly for his phone on the bedside table.

Stiles has his back to him, but Derek hears the quick exhale of a hushed laugh and then Stiles is rolling over to show him the latest text message from Scott composed of eleven exclamation points and nothing else. Stiles taps out his response and tucks the phone under his pillow.

“What did you tell him?” Derek asks.

“I told him best man duties don’t start until eight am.” Stiles rolls over onto his stomach, head still turned towards Derek. “And that his freak-out will have to wait.”

Stiles goes back to sleep, but Derek can’t. He’s caught up in the understanding of how right this feels. It’s ridiculous. It’s not like they haven’t slept in the same bed before. Boundaries are different with pack, but this isn’t like that.

The phone under Stiles’ pillow starts ringing at exactly eight am. He groans and rolls out of bed.

“Duty calls,” he jokes as he swipes the screen to answer. “Lay it on me Scotty.”

He wanders out of the room and Derek decides to get up. The wedding isn’t until the afternoon, but they all have a big day ahead.

Once he’s showered and dressed, Derek meets Stiles and Cora in the kitchen for breakfast.

Stiles is still on the phone when Derek enters. “Oh my god.” His jaw drops open. “Sorry, Scott. I gotta call you back.”

Derek can just make out Scott’s tinny protests before Stiles ends the call and marches over.

“What did you do to your _face_?”

“Uh,” Derek’s at a complete loss to the reaction. “I shaved.”

Stiles scowls. “Why?”

“Because Kira told me to?” It isn’t supposed to come out as a question. The uplift at the end is completely involuntary.

From the kitchen table Cora is watching them with thinly veiled amusement.

“But you had the whole rugged mountain man thing going on,” Stiles tells him, his tone dripping with such disappointment, Derek’s breath catches in his chest. Then, once again, Stiles ruins everything and says. “Now no one will believe me when I tell them you’re homeless.”

There’s a laugh in the background that can only be Cora and Stiles is grinning in that infectious way of his. Derek can’t help it. There’s a smile tugging at his lips as Derek steps past Stiles into the kitchen.

“Nobody believes you anyway.”

*

The pack is split between the Yukimura’s and the Stilinski-McCall’s. They drop Cora off first, then Derek and Stiles head across town.

The rest of the day is spent rushing around making last minute preparations. It’s been months since the last sign of any threat to the town, but Derek still won’t let anyone travel alone. He and Stiles go together to pick up Jackson, ignoring the griping about not being able to drive his own car.

When they get to John and Melissa’s house, it’s time to get dressed in their suits.

At midday, the cars arrive to take them all to the ceremony.

Derek rides with Boyd, Isaac and Jackson. Scott, Stiles, John and Melissa are in the other car.

Once the guests are seated, Stiles stands between Scott and Isaac at the front of the room as the music swells and Kira begins her walk down the aisle. She walks with her father, eyes trained solely on Scott.

Glancing across to his best friend, Stiles can see Scott’s eyes are dewy with unshed tears.

Sensing the scrutiny and without taking his eyes off the bride, Scott whispers, “Don’t you dare.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Stiles whispers back.

“Will you two shut up?” Lydia hisses from her position opposite Stiles. He mimes zipping his mouth shut, sending an amused eyeroll towards Derek in the audience.

Scott starts crying as soon as Kira reaches the end of the aisle and her veil is raised. He and Kira laugh through their vows and then they kiss, Scott tipping Kira back while family and friends cheer.

The reception afterwards is a noisy affair.

While the werewolves and kitsunes in attendance cannot get drunk, the human members of the wedding party most definitely can.

Derek sits with the pack with Stiles on his left, watching him get louder as the empty glasses collect on the table. Stiles is an expressive drunk, arms flying as he tells Isaac some story Derek knows to be a lie. He doesn’t give it away through, preferring to sit silence and focus on trying not to stare at Stiles’ long fingers toying with the cutlery or the tongue that chases the straw around the rim of the glass.

Erica is sitting opposite them with Boyd on one side and Isaac on the other. She pushes to her feet, loudly suggesting they all go dance.

Derek tries to wave them all off with his excuses, but with Stiles tugging on one arm and Erica on the other, he ends up on the wooden dance floor, awkwardly bobbing in time with the music while Stiles laughs and dances around him.

“You boys wash up nice,” John says when he finds them among the crowd.

“You’re not too bad yourself Daddio.” Stiles shimmies in closer to his father. “Maybe if Derek stopped feeding you junk food-” he pats his dad on the tummy and dances away from a half-hearted swat. “You’d look even better.”

“You need to let that go.”

“I’m never letting that go,” Stiles says, “I’m going to hold this for-“

“All right. All right. All right! Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for.” The MC cuts the music to grab everyone’s attention, effectively cutting off Stiles’ lecture. “Can I get _all_ the single ladies out on the dance floor.”

Female guests begin to gather on the dance floor as the men and couples back up to form a ring around the outside.

“Now is my time to shine bitches.” Erica pushes past Derek to join the group.

You’re not single,” he says.

Erica sticks out her tongue and disappears into the crowd. She appears again a moment later and latches onto Lydia to drag her in too.

Derek sighs and stands to the side with Boyd and Stiles. They watch the squealing crowd prepare for the bouquet toss, catching the occasional glimpse of Erica’s long blonde curls.

“How far do you think Erica will go for those flowers?” Stiles asks, leaning his weight into Derek. He’s no longer particularly steady on his feet, so Derek steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. “I think there could be maiming, maybe a bit of murder.” He turns to Boyd. “I hope you’re ready.”

Boyd smirks. “I’ve already got the ring,”

Stiles gasps dramatically and reaches over for a congratulatory thump on the back.

Up on the stage Kira and Scott stand next to the MC. Kira turns her back to the crowd and on the count of three tosses the bouquet. It travels with considerable speed, up over the heads of the screaming women. They all turn as one unit to watch the bouquet soar across the dance floor and then thud solidly against Derek’s chest.

His hand comes up out of reflex and catches the flowers before they drop to the ground. He looks down in surprise, oblivious to the nasty looks he’s getting from the dance floor.

The flowers are a mess. The force of the throw has knocked petals loose and they litter the floor at his feet.

Derek looks up at the stage, his face burning. Stiles is beside himself laughing at the dumbstruck look on Derek’s face.

The MC calls the men to gather and Stiles pulls himself together enough to slap Derek on the chest and say, “Wish me luck.”

Derek watches him stumble off into the crowd. He ignores the glares of the women stomping past him and instead focuses on Scott as the garter goes flying.

There are bodies everywhere in the scramble to pick the scrap of fabric from the floor. From the pile, a hand emerges victorious, the garter clutched within. Stiles staggers to his feet, his white shirt has come untucked from his dress slacks, his hair is sticking up at all angles. He ambles back over to Derek.

“Guess we’ll have to get married,” he laughs, and Derek swallows against the sudden lump in his throat.

“Where is our lucky couple?” The MC breaks through the fog and there are hands pushing them towards the middle of the room.

The burn in Derek’s cheeks has spread to envelop his entire body. Everybody is watching them as Stiles drags them onto the dance floor. The first strains of some slow tempo song begin to echo through the sound system.

They rock awkwardly together, Derek clumsy with embarrassment, and Stiles from the alcohol. From somewhere over Stiles’ shoulder is the starburst flash of a camera. Derek quickly averts his eyes to avoid the lens flare. 

Kira and Scott join them and quickly the dance floor begins to fill once more. As soon as other couples join them in the dance, Derek releases his hold on Stiles. He makes some excuse about the bathroom and walks out of the room.

*

It is _late_ when they send Scott and Kira off.

The newlyweds are bundled into a car with great fanfare. They’re not going far, just to a hotel for the night before departing on their honeymoon in the morning.

Once they’re gone, Derek, Stiles and Cora get a taxi home. Stiles is quick to fall into bed, half undressed and a little worse for wear from the drink. Derek’s ready to call it a night and follow him, but Cora lingers in the living room.

“You looked really happy tonight,” she says, patting the couch and inviting Derek to sit. “It was weird, I’m so used to that grumpy mug of yours.”

“I am happy.” It’s taken him a long time to reach this point, but now, when he says the words, there’s no hint of a lie in his heartbeat. “Are you happy?”

“I really am.” Cora’s mouth spreads in a genuine smile.

“That’s really great,” Derek tells her. “I’m going to bed, you should too.”

“No wait.” Cora drags Derek bodily onto the couch. “You can’t run away from me.”

“I can,” Derek deadpans, “I’m the Alpha.”

“You’re not my Alpha,” Cora shoots back.

After six years, the words are no longer painful, they’re simply fact. Cora has found a new pack, and Derek’s happy for her, that she was able to get away from the painful memories that Beacon Hills holds.

Derek had those same painful memories, but as his pack has grown in numbers and strength, as he finally let go and formed proper relationships with his betas, the pain has ebbed away like a bruise he’s finally stopped poking. It’s still there, but he feels like it can’t hurt him anymore.

A lot of that was to do with Stiles, Derek thinks. He’s a tenacious and steadfast friend and he’d wormed his way in close, making everything brighter with his presence. He’s given Derek something new to look forward to rather than look back on.

“You’re thinking about Stiles.”

Derek’s torn from his thoughts by a vicious finger to his ribs.

“How could you possibly know that?” He asks, wincing and ducking away from the attack.

“I’ve been watching you all night,” Cora points out. “You’ve got the exact same face you made when he almost took out the cake. And when he gave his best man speech. _And_ when you were dancing together.” She pulls a face. “You guys are so cute together, it’s honestly disgusting.”

“We’re not together,” Derek corrects her.

“Bullshit,” Cora spits, in a half-laugh. “He’s sleeping in your bed right now.” She gestures out towards the hallway.

“He’s-” Derek flounders. “I didn’t want him to sleep on the couch.”

Cora’s eyebrows almost disappear into her hairline. “ _Sure,”_ she says, sounding unconvinced. “Did you know that every time we talk, the first thing you tell me is what Stiles is up to.”

Derek shrugs. “He’s got an interesting job.”

_“Bullshit!_ ” Cora laughs out loud, batting away Derek’s hands and ignoring his attempts to shush her. “I’m not buying it. Why are you trying to hide this from everyone? We all know.”

“You do? Everyone?” Derek’s hands drop to his lap. Did the whole pack think he and Stiles were dating?

“You guys are not exactly subtle about it.”

“We’re not dating.” Derek glances in the direction of the bedrooms, straining his ears for any movement from his room.

“Jesus, your heart is racing right now. You’re really-” Cora gapes at him. “Oh my God. You and Stiles aren’t dating. But…” Suddenly Derek knows why Stiles calls them Hale eyebrows. Cora’s narrow in a calculating way and he can tell exactly what she’s thinking.

“Don’t say it.”

“You _want_ to date him.”

“Cora!”

“You should tell him!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Cora demands. “He wants to date you too.”

“No, it’s-” Derek falters, fully comprehending Cora’s words. “He does?”

“Yes! Holy shit Derek!” Cora throws her hands up in frustration. “How can you be so fucking oblivious? You’re supposed to have extra senses.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“You need to talk to him.”

“No, I don’t,” Derek says. “What if you’re wrong? What if I say something and he doesn’t want to live here anymore?”

“Is that really the worst that could happen?” Cora asks. “He doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, so what? You spend a few days feeling embarrassed and then you move on.” She rests her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Just talk to him.”

“Fine.” Derek lets the word out in a long breath. “I’ll talk to him. But when this ends badly, I’m blaming you.”

*

When Cora leaves three days later, Derek still hasn’t said anything to Stiles

He’s tried. Multiple times. But every time he opens his mouth to speak, the words dry up. So, he says nothing and puts up with Cora’s pointed glances until it’s finally time to say goodbye.

He’ll miss her. He always does. But he will not miss her absolute determination to ruin his life.

She gives him a hug before climbing into the car.

“Think about what I said, Der.”

As she speeds off down the street, Stiles turns to Derek. “What was that about?”

Derek shrugs, staring out towards the empty road rather than meet Stiles eye. “Nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I have no idea what Stiles' job is... 
> 
> Anyway....
> 
> I was going to post this on Friday... but I decided I hated it and spent the weekend rewriting it around taking care of the nephlings. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this offering of fluff before the next chapter arrives. In the meantime, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://tails89.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Kudos and comments are super appreciated. Thanks fam!


	5. Kidnapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I've updated the tags for this chapter. Please have a look.

"Ah shit.”

Stiles pulls the Jeep over to the side of the road as smoke begins to billow out from under the hood. He cuts the engine and jumps out to inspect the damage. The metal hood is hot to the touch- a bad sign of an overheating engine- and Stiles can hear the sizzle of something dripping below.

The sight that greats him when he finally peeks under the hood up is not a good one. There is oil and muck coating everything and a great big crack in an engine part that Stiles is pretty sure isn’t supposed to be cracked.

He can’t help the sigh that escapes. Derek’s going to be pissed at him.

Although, in all honesty, Stiles is a little bit pissed at Derek too. If only for the minor inconvenience of his stupid rule about traveling alone. The rule that Stiles is now breaking. 

He hadn’t meant to do it. He’d been hanging with Erica when she’d got a call from her mum. Apparently, her grandparents had shown up unexpectedly wanting the whole family together for lunch. Stiles drops Erica off, deciding to do the same and surprise his dad at work.

Best laid plans or whatever.

The Jeep isn’t going anywhere soon, and neither is Stiles without a lift. He reaches into the car for his phone and thumbs through his contact list. His first instinct is to ring Derek, but he’s not sure he wants to deal with the argument that’s likely to come out of it.

Ever since Scott and Kira’s wedding Derek has been acting strange.

Things had been so good up until that point. Stiles can’t help but wonder if maybe he had let himself get too comfortable around Derek, maybe he’d said or done something, and Derek has clued into his… feelings.

Unlike Stiles who’d dated both men and women at college, Derek’s never shown any interest in the opposite sex, maybe that’s why he’s so uncomfortable around Stiles now.

It hurts.

It also validates Stiles’ decision to keep his feelings to himself in the first place. 

He rings his Dad.

“Hey,” he says when the call connects. “Any chance you can come give me a lift?”

_“I’m at work Stiles.”_

“Yeah, I know, but the Jeep’s broken down again.” Stiles moves around to the other side of the car, looking for some shade.

 _“That’s rough kiddo.”_ John pauses before cautiously adding. _“Maybe it’s time to start looking for a new car.”_

They’ve had this conversation before, every time Stiles forks out his entire savings on another replacement part. He’s not ready to have this conversation again, not on the side of the road.

“Can you give me a lift?” Stiles asks, instead of arguing with his dad. “I’ll buy you lunch to make it up to you.”

 _“As great as that sounds, I can’t leave the station right now,”_ John tells him. _“It’ll be another hour maybe, before I can come get you.”_

Stiles leans back against the Jeep. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone else can get me in the meantime.”

He promises to let his dad know once he’s home and disconnects the call.

Hoping that the car will just magically fix itself, Stiles takes another look under the hood. There is still smoke gently wafting from the engine. He bites the bullet and dials Derek’s number.

The call goes through to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me. Uh, the Jeep broke down.” Stiles sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “Never mind… I’ll get an Uber… or somthing. Uh, I guess I’ll see you later…”

Stiles calls the rest of the pack, one by one, but no one is free to come pick him up.

He weighs up his options.

Stiles doesn’t really want to spend the money on an Uber or a taxi, not when he’s only about a thirty-minute walk from his dad’s house. He could borrow his dad’s car for the rest of the day while he organises getting the Jeep towed.

Making up his mind, Stiles grabs his backpack from the Jeep, locks it up and sets off down the street.

It’s hot as balls in the September sun. Five minutes in, Stiles can already feel the sweat dripping down his back, his shirt clinging to his skin. There’s not a single puff of wind to help provide relief from the oppressive heat.

Stiles imagines all the cold drinks he will have when he gets home. There’s probably even some ice cream hidden in the back of the freezer.

There is nothing immediately suspicious about the dark truck that pulls up beside him.

One moment Stiles’ giving a woman directions back towards town, the next his legs are buckling as something hits him hard across the back of the head. He doesn’t think he loses consciousness – not really, but his vision greys out for a second, maybe two, and it’s enough for the person behind him to bundle him into the backseat and secure his hands before Stiles can even form a coherent thought.

When his brain starts to come back online, it’s to the realisation that, one; ouch, and two; someone is speaking.

“You really think this will draw the Alpha out?”

“Absolutely, I’ve been watching him for months. Now that we’ve got this one, the Alpha will come to us.”

There are two of them, sitting in the front seats. The woman is driving, her eyes darting up to look at Stiles in the rear-view mirror.

“But this one’s human.” The man seems the less confident of the two.

“A human that associates with monsters.” The woman says, her voice dripping with open disgust. “He’s basically one of them.”

“Do you realise the mistake you’ve made,” Stiles groans. His wrists throb as he levers himself up into a half-sitting position, the zip-ties digging into his flesh.

“Yes, yes,” the woman brushes off his words with a wave of her hand. “The Alpha will come after us. We’re counting on that.”

Stiles shakes his head and immediately regrets the movement. “I’m the Sheriff’s kid,” he spits. “The whole goddamn town is going to come after you.”

The two hunters argue over this. Stiles can’t help but wonder how good they could possibly be. Surely if they _had_ been watching the pack for as long as they’d said, they would have this information. He tucks the thought away for later, already planning how he can pit these two against each other.

He realises with a sinking feeling that no one knows he’s missing. Stiles never messaged his Dad to let him know he was walking home. Everyone else will probably assume he’s found a lift.

Stiles tries not to dwell on this, focussing instead on where the hunters might be taking him. The houses passing by thin, and they turn onto a dirt track.

The bumping, winding road does not mix well with the lazy spinning of Stiles head.

He swallows back the bile that rises in his throat and closes his eyes. Let them think he’s passed out, maybe he can surprise them and escape.

Finally, the motion of the car stops and the engine is cut. Stiles cracks an eye open to look out the window. He recognises the cabin they’re parking beside as one of Chris’s, though he doesn’t think it’s been used for a long time.

The man sitting in the seat front passenger seat comes around to open the door Stiles had been leaning on. He grabs Stiles by the arm and drags him from the truck.

“Move,” he growls, giving Stiles a shove towards the cabin.

“Hey,” Stiles bites back, sarcastically. “I could have a brain injury.” He purposely slows his movements, almost tripping the hunter up. 

“You have a bump on the head. Now, shut your mouth before we find something to shut it for you.” The hunter gives Stiles another hard push towards the door.

Once inside, Stiles is directed towards the corner.

He looks around the place as they move across the room. The cabin has the bare essentials to make it liveable. There are a couple of chairs and a table in one corner near a small open kitchen area. The other corner holds a couple of single beds with sleeping bags. It looks like the hunters have been here a while and Stiles realises they’re likely the hunters responsible for the trap in the preserve and maybe even the body Derek had found back in April. He can’t understand why they have waited until now to target the pack. He asks this out loud.

“I told you to be quiet!”

Stiles is shoved. He stumbles, his balance not quite right and goes down.

With his hands tied behind his back, he has nothing to break his fall and his head knocks against the wooden floor. A starburst of pain flairs bright against his skull and he grits his teeth and decides that maybe for the moment, staying quiet is best, at least until he’s no longer seeing double.

After a few minutes, Stiles carefully sits up and finds that his head doesn’t pound quite as hard while he’s upright. He’s near the wall so he scoots across so he can slump against it and watches squinty-eyed while the hunters’ bustle about the cabin.

“You killed that wolf out in the woods,” he says, watching the woman pull weapons from a duffle bag.

The woman sneers, turning to look at Stiles. “Yes,” she says. “Your packmate. We killed him.”

“I- He wasn’t in our pack. He was just passing through the territory.”

There’s a flash of confusion, then the woman shrugs. “He was a monster,” she says. “So, we put him down.”

“You’ve been in Beacon Hills for months,” Stiles says. “So why are you only coming after the pack now?”

“Your Alpha proved particularly difficult to get to. He surrounds himself with his pack. It’s not until we found you, we found a way to get to him.”

“Because I’m human?”

“Because you’re his mate.” The woman spits each word like they leave an awful taste in her mouth. “Disgusting, that a person would lower themselves to that.”

“Uh,” Stiles starts to say, “I’m not his-“

The phone in his pocket chirps before Stiles can finish the sentence. The hunters exchange looks and then the man stalks over to take the phone and search Stiles for anything else he might have.

“Isn’t this like the first rule of kidnapping?” Stiles can’t help asking it while the hunter is digging through his pockets. “Take the phone, make sure they’ve got no way to escape? Y’know, Hostage Taking 101?”

They ignore him. The phone is thrown onto the table and, satisfied there’s nothing else on him, the hunters go back to their weapons.

Stiles wonder who it was that messaged him. It was probably his dad, checking in. Hopefully, he’ll realise something weird is going on when Stiles doesn’t reply.

Waiting sucks though. And Stiles has never been good at waiting or being patient… or keeping his mouth shut.

“So, do I get names?” Stiles pipes back up, shifting in place to find a more comfortable way to sit. “I’ve been calling you guys Hunter Dude and Dudette in my head which is, like, super rude of me.” Neither hunter looks up from their guns. “My name is Stiles,” he supplies over-the-top cheerful. “I’m guessing you knew that already, but my dad, y’know the Sheriff,” he winks at Hunter Dude. “Raised me to be polite.”

Dudette glances over at him, then pointedly turns back to the guns she’s cleaning.

“Well that’s rude,” Stiles mutters, loud enough for the hunters to hear him. “You can’t just kidnap a person and then ignore them.”

There’s a tic to the man’s lips, like he wants to say something, but a sharp look from the woman stops him.

“I mean,” Stiles continues on, “where’s the drama? The monologuing? How am I supposed to know your evil scheme if you won’t monologue it at me?”

The man bursts to his feet.

Stiles shuts his mouth.

After a moment, the man sits.

Stiles chews on his bottom lip, willing himself to stay quiet. The need to say something, _do_ something bubbles up inside him. He taps out a quick rhythm with his right foot against the bare concrete floor, giving is restless energy an outlet.

“I’ve got a question.” The words tumble out of him and Stiles waits to see what the hunters will do.

The look the woman sends him is cold. Deadly. In that one look Stiles can see that this hunter would have no issue killing him.

“It’s not important,” he mumbles.

He fidgets with the zip ties, tugging his hands against the plastic.

“Actually, no, I still have my question,” Stiles remembers. “Why do you want Derek? The pack hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Nothing wrong?” This finally gets a response from the woman. “They’re werewolves.”

“Well, they can’t really help that,” Stiles points out, “and they’re not _all_ werewolves. There’s a banshee, a kitsune and a kanima, plus, I’m human so…”

“A human mate to a werewolf alpha.”

“Yeah,” Stiles frowns. “You said that, but I don’t think-“

“Monsters like your Alpha only know how to do one thing. Kill.”

“And you’re going to stop him?” Stiles asks. “Look, Beacon Hills has a bit of a reputation. We’ve had a lot of monsters, _real_ monsters, try to kill us over the years, and every single one of them has failed. What makes you think you could honestly take on the pack and win?”

The woman scoffs.

“Ah, yes, we heard about the little scuffles you had in the past.”

“Scuffles?” Stile laughs flatly at the arrogance of this woman. “I was possessed by a thousand-year-old demon and somehow came out the other side. These weren’t scuffles. We-”

“I have had enough of this kids bullshit,” the woman says, turning to her partner. “I don’t care what you do, just shut him up.”

The man comes over and grabs Stiles, lurching to his feet. He struggles, certain he’s about to die as the hunter drags him outside.

“I’ll stop,” Stiles promises as he’s pulled along out towards the truck. “Please.”

The hunter uses the keys in his pocket to unlock the doors and open the trunk. Stiles stops pulling at the grip on his arm and looks at the car.

“Get in.”

Stiles turns to the hunter, confused.

“Now.”

This is not what Stiles had been expecting. He’d honestly believed he’d been about to be shot or something, but this, Stiles can work with this.

Climbing into the trunk is difficult with his hands behind his back. The hunter gives him a shove, and Stiles manages to scramble to his knees shuffle up against the back seats.

As soon as he’s locked inside and the hunter disappears back into the cabin, Stiles assesses the situation. With no one watching him, he finally has the chance to break the zip-ties.

He’s done this once before, after spending an entire day watching YouTube videos of people breaking out of duct tape, zip ties, even handcuffs. He’d asked Scott to tie up his wrists before having a go himself.

His hands had been in front of him then, but surely the principle was the same. He just needed a little force.

“Okay, you got this,” Stiles gives himself a little pep talk, scooting forward to give himself room to stretch his arms out behind his back. “Yep. Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “One… Two… Three!”

He pulls his arms forward, smacking his wrists tight against his spine. The plastic bites into his skin but doesn’t break.

It takes two more attempts, before the zip-ties snap and by then Stiles is sweating. The air inside the truck is hot and still. The dark paint absorbs the direct sunlight outside turning the vehicle into an oven.

With his graphic t-shit is sticky against his skin and combined with the still aching head, Stiles is decidedly uncomfortable.

But his hands are free! Stiles wipes the beading sweat from his forehead and starts to search the back of the car.

He takes his time, starting at the rear door.

It’s a newish model car which means it probably has some sort of emergency release, but Stiles can’t see anything that stands out as an obvious lever.

He traces the edges of the plastic, looking for any hinges or levers for the back door. There’s nothing.

“Well this is less than ideal,” he mutters, sitting back on his heels.

He can’t get out over the back seats; the hunters have installed some sort of barrier. It’s drilled into the car at several points.

He wonders if he can kick out a taillight. It might not get him out of the trunk of the car, but it would bring some fresh air in at least.

He doesn’t think he’s been trapped for longer than ten minutes, but already the heat feels like it’s weighing him down. Every movement seems to require twice the energy.

Running his fingers along the side of the door, Stiles searches for a seam in the casing. When he finds it, he digs his fingers in under the plastic and wrenches it loose. There is a network of wires underneath. Stiles starts tugging at them, reaching for the red glint of the taillight he can see behind everything.

Sweat runs in rivulets down his brow, stinging his eyes.

Stiles shuffles back and puts one foot up over the gap he’s created with his hands. He kicks, once, as hard as he can, trying to break through.

He aims another kick, checks to see if anything’s shifted, then kicks again.

There’s too much plastic and metal protecting the light.

Stiles flops down onto his back, panting in the thick hot air. He’ll have another go in just a minute, he thinks. As soon as he catches his breath.

*

The house is empty when Derek arrives home from work.

It’s been empty a lot in the last two weeks.

Derek knows he’s been acting weird since Cora left. He knows Stiles has noticed it too. He’s been waiting for Stiles to bring it up, to say he didn’t want to live with Derek anymore.

But Stiles hasn’t said anything, choosing instead to stay with his Dad or hang out Erica or Lydia or anyone in the back that isn’t Derek.

Early that morning Stiles had mentioned going to the movies with Erica. Derek checks his phone to see if Stiles plans on coming back this afternoon.

There’s a missed call and a voicemail Derek hadn’t noticed earlier. He frowns, thumbing through the press play.

 _“Hey, it’s me. Uh, the Jeep broke down_.” The sigh echoes from the speaker. _“Never mind… I’ll get an Uber… or something. Uh, I guess I’ll see you later.”_

Derek checks his call history for the timestamp. Stiles left the message over two hours ago and there’s been no message since. He hits the call icon beside Stiles’ name and waits while it connects.

After a few rings the call goes through to voicemail.

“Stiles.” Derek hesitates, not sure what else to say. “Uh, call me when you get this.” He disconnects the call.

It’s a bit odd that he hasn’t heard from Stiles in a while. Even with the weirdness going on between them. Stiles’ always makes sure to check in with Derek, even if it’s just a simple text message letting Derek know he got to his dad’s place okay.

Concern begins to creep in around the edges, but Derek pushes it down. Stiles likely just got distracted with something. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Derek shoots off a text to Stiles, just in case he’s still at the movies and can’t answer the phone, then spends five agonising minutes waiting for a reply.

When nothing arrives, he calls John.

“Have you heard from Stiles?” Derek asks, as soon as the call connects. “I can’t reach him.”

 _“Uh, I spoke to him a couple of hours ago.”_ John tells him.

“When? What time was it?” Derek can hear the television in the background of the call. HE focuses on the sounds filtering through rather than the panic rising up his throat.

 _“He called around midday,”_ John says. Derek can hear the concern colouring his tone. _“His car broke down again. I couldn’t leave work, I thought he was going to call you.”_

“Okay, he uh, he probably got distracted.” Even as he says the words, Derek knows this isn’t true. Stiles isn’t absentminded. He knows to keep in touch with the hunters still around. “I’ll call around. He’s probably still at Erica’s.”

He’s not. Erica tells Derek that Stiles had dropped her home around midday. No one has heard from him since.

With shaking hands, Derek calls Stiles’ cell phone again.

This time it connects after the first ring.

_“Hello Alpha.”_

Derek’s blood runs cold. “Who is this?”

_“Oh, I think you can guess.”_

“Please.” Derek clutches at the phone. “Don’t hurt him.”

_“Come alone, and maybe we won’t need to.”_

The line disconnects.

With shaking hands, Derek opens the menu on his phone.

He’s got an app that lets him track the phones of the pack if anyone’s in trouble. He quickly finds the blinking icon that indicates Stiles’ location out to the west of Beacon Hills.

As he jogs out the front door, Derek scrolls to John’s contact and hits call.

_“Derek-“_

“They’ve got Stiles.”

_“Who?”_

“The hunters.” Derek wastes a few precious seconds deciding whether to drive or run. He settles on running. He can cut through the preserve and reach Stiles faster that way.

_“Calm down son, we’ll find him. Let me get a team together and-”_

“I know where he is,” Derek says, turning down the street. “They’re still in Beacon Hills. I can find him and bring him home.” He picks up his pace, heading for the start of the trail that winds through the trees.

_“Don’t do anything rash, you hear me Derek? If you rush into this without thinking you’re only going to get yourself into trouble.”_

“I won’t.”

_“We need a plan.”_

Derek can’t ignore the increasing desperation in John’s voice.

_“Come down to the station. We’ll bring in the rest of the pack and get him back together.”_

“I can’t just sit around and wait.”

_“Derek, son, listen to me-“_

“I’m sorry John.” Derek ends the call and tries not to let the guilt eat at him. He sends through the coordinates for Stiles’ phone. John can organise back-up, but Derek can’t wait that long.

The trails are quiet. It’s too hot a day for hiking. It means Derek can run at full speed without worrying someone will see him.

It takes about thirty-minutes to reach the hunters. He’s careful as he approaches the cabin, watchful for traps. Derek can’t afford to get caught himself, so he forces himself to slow down and focus on his surroundings.

When the cabin comes in to view, he almost charges in. It’s only the knowledge that he can’t rescue Stiles if he killed himself that stops him from stepping out of the tree line. Moving carefully, Derek finds a spot that looks in through one of the windows.

The cabin isn’t big. Derek has been in it before. It’s all open with a small kitchen running along one wall, with a couple of beds in the far corner and an old table in the middle of the room.

From where he hides, Derek can see both hunters. The woman is talking, the indistinct sounds not quite clear enough to make out.

Derek can’t see Stiles. He can pick up the faint scent of him though. Stiles is around somewhere, probably sitting out of sight of the windows.

Its two against one. Derek will need to find a way to take them on one at a time. If he can draw them both out of the house, if he can somehow split them up, he can take them on one on one.

Backtracking through the trees, Derek finds one of the traps he’d been previously hoping to avoid.

He uses a large chunk of wood, tossing it from a safe distance, to set off the trap. He moves on quickly, looking for the next.

It’s not until Derek has set off the fourth trap, he hears the crunch of footfalls through leaflitter.

He keeps moving, drawing the hunter away from the safety of the house and his back-up inside. Then, he doubles back behind his persuer.

It takes all his self-restraint not to kill the man. He wants to. The idea that anyone would want to hurt his pack, his… _Stiles_ has Derek seeing red.

He lunges at the hunter; claws extended and teeth snapping. The fight is brief. No human has the strength to withstand an alpha werewolf.

Derek grips the struggling hunter’s head in both hands.

He can’t kill him. He might be a werewolf, but Derek’s not a monster. He won’t stoop to the hunter’s level. He settles for tying up the hunter, using the restraints on the hunter’s own belt and drags him back towards the cabin.

Derek searches the man’s pockets, taking his gun and knives, then leaves him trussed up, just inside the tree line. He darts back around the cabin to his previous hiding spot.

The woman stands in full view of the window, staring out. She turns her back, heading towards the opposite wall and Derek strikes.

He runs at the window and jumps, curing to protect himself as the glass breaks. He lands, half shifted, behind the woman, grabbing her by the throat.

A quick glance around the room confirms his deepest fear- Stiles isn’t here.

“Where is Stiles?” Derek shoves the woman up against the wall. Her feet dangle, barely scraping the ground but this doesn’t seem to faze her.

She clutches at the claws around her throat, but her expression is one of revulsion, not fear.

“Answer my question!” Derek demands.

The woman’s scent is so familiar. Derek remembers it from the body, but also… there’s a vague memory. Christmas and an icy path…

It doesn’t matter now. The only thing that matters is finding Stiles.

The hunter scrabbles at her hip, drawing a gun. Derek lets his grip go slack and she drops to the floor as the trigger is pulled. The shot goes wide.

Derek snatches the gun, throwing it away.

“Where is Stiles?” He growls the words through dropped fangs, eyes shining red.

“You can’t kill me,” the hunter boasts. “You’ll never find your little mate if you do.” 

She thinks her partner is dead, Derek realises.

“Who said anything about killing?” Derek spits. “Tell me where he is.”

He hears it before the hunter does, the hum of a distant car and the sound of wheels churning through gravel. Multiple cars, but no sirens. Derek hopes it’s the police and not back-up for the hunters.

The hunter’s eyes go wide once the vehicles are close enough to register to human ears.

“You were told to come alone,” the hunter says, expression unreadable. “I guess now you’ll never find your little mate.”

Outside, car doors slam and two officers enter the cabin, guns drawn. Sheriff Stilinski follows hot on their heels.

The hunter slumps suddenly in Derek’s grip.

“You’ve got to help me,” she whimpers. “He- I don’t know what happened. He just broke in and attacked me.”

Stepping forward, John’s cold gaze surveys the situation.

He pulls his cuffs from his belt and makes his way over to Derek.

“You’re under arrest.”

Derek wants to wipe the smug look from the hunter’s face, but John does it for him, reaching down to cuff her.

“Wait.” She struggles, lashing out at them as she is restrained. “What? No! You can’t do this. He is a werewolf! A monster.”

John hauls the woman to her feet.

“You took my son.” His voice is low and steady, but Derek can hear the wild pounding of John’s heart from where he stands.

They lead the woman outside.

“There’s another hunter,” Derek tells them. He gestures off towards where he’d left the hunter trussed up then turns back to the hunter. “Where’s Stiles?”

She shrugs. “Don’t know.”

“Somehow I don’t believe her,” John says, turning to Derek. “Can you find him?”

“He was here,” Derek says, taking a deep breath and shifting through the scents. He ignores the two hunters’ arguing as the man is brought over and focuses on Stiles.

He zeros in on the black SUV. Stiles’ scent is all over it, and Derek had assumed that was simply because he’d been transported in it.

The scent should have faded by now, though – it’s been more than three hours since anyone heard from him - but it’s still concentrated around the car.

Derek wanders over to the vehicle and peers inside. The tinting on the windows makes it almost impossible to see anything, and the doors are locked.

“Do either of them have a key?” He asks, turning back to John.

The hunters are searched, and a key is quickly produced.

When the door is opened, the hot air inside the car escapes in a rush. The scent of Stiles is so strong, but the cab is empty.

There’s a small noise from the trunk- just the quiet rustle of fabric. Derek peers over the back seat into the trunk.

“John!”

He moves around the car to open the back door.

“Der’k.”

“Hey.” Derek reaches into the car to help Stiles sit. “John, he’s over here.”

Stiles curls in on himself as a cramp hits, groaning through gritted teeth.

Derek helps him stay upright, looping one arm around Stiles and letting the younger man sag against him. Stiles’ shirt is soaked through, warm and damp against Derek’s skin.

“Stiles.” John rushes up to the car. He places a palm against his son’s cheek, wincing at the heat radiating against his hand. “Let’s get him inside,” he says to Derek. “He needs to cool down.”

Derek scoops Stiles up with one arm under his knees and the other behind his back.

“F’ck.” Stiles’ breath is hot against Derek’s shoulder.

“You okay?”

“D’zzy.”

Derek puts Stiles down on one of the beds and steps back so John can crouch beside his son.

“Hey, kiddo. You’re looking a bit hot there.” Derek doesn’t know how John can keep his voice so steady.

It’s the perfect set up for a joke, but Stiles just shakes his head and groans through another cramp.

John continues on like it’s no big deal. “Let’s cool you down a bit.”

One of the sheriff’s deputies comes in to say that they were taking the hunters away and an ambulance had been called. John just nods and asks one of them to stay and direct the paramedics in when they arrive. Then he’s talking to Stiles again.

“You’re going to be okay Stiles.”

Stiles jerks his head but doesn’t say anything. He’s getting worse, and it’s all Derek’s fault.

If Stiles hadn’t been avoiding him.

If he’d just answered his phone instead of ignoring it.

If-

“Can you give me a hand?”

Derek realises belatedly that John’s talking to him. He nods and steps closer to the bed.

“Go to the kitchen, see if you can find and towels and wet them in the sink.” John starts stripping off Stiles’ shirt. The fabric is still damp with sweat, but his skin is hot and dry beneath.

He’s been stripped to his boxers by the time Derek returns, his shoes and clothes discarded on the floor.

Handing over the damp towels, Derek turns away from the bed to give Stiles and his dad some privacy. He feels so incredibly awkward, but he can’t face leaving the room until he knows Stiles will be okay.

“D’rek?”

Stiles’ arm flops out towards him, seeking, so Derek takes it and clutches at the too-warm fingers.

“S’ said w’er mates.” Stiles frowns, his whole face wrinkling in confusion. “Kep’ saying. Like w’er dating?”

Derek’s mouth drops open. He doesn’t know what to say.

“You are kiddo.” John frowns concerned about his son’s apparent confusion.

“m not,” Stiles tells him, his eyes drifting shut. “t’s never gon’ happ’n.”

Derek feels his blood run cold.

_It’s never going to happen._

“Stiles, open your eyes for me.” John leans over his son on the bed, tucking folded towel under his neck. Two more go under his arms. “Come on kiddo.”

_It’s never going to happen._

Outside the cabin, the wailing of a siren heralds the arrival of the ambulance. The paramedics rush in and Derek is gently ushered away from the bed. He watches on numbly as they insert a very large needle into Stiles’ arm. Stiles doesn’t even flinch, too far out of it to notice.

_It’s never going to happen._

John goes with Stiles in the ambulance.

Officer Clarke stands beside Derek and they watch the ambulance disappear down the dirt track.

“Come on,” she says once the dust has settles. “I’ll give you a lift to the hospital.”

“Uh,” Derek takes a shaky step backwards. “Thanks, but I’ll-“ He trails off, taking another step towards the trees. He needs to call the pack; he needs to fill them in on what happened. “I’m going to walk.”

“You sure?”

Derek nods. There’s a restless energy fizzing just under his skin.

He turns to the trees, and he runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: When I was 10, my friend and I managed to trap ourselves in the boot (trunk) of her parent’s car at a soccer match. It had the same pet cage thing across the back of the seats.  
> Luckily, it wasn’t a hot day. Our parents came looking for us when we missed the start of our match, we’d prob been in there for 20 mins.
> 
> Anyway...
> 
> I am so sorry for not posting! Things have been pretty crazy the two weeks and I just haven't been able to find the time to write. But! The second last chapter is up!


	6. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a fool!!
> 
> Oh my god, for anyone who has been following along, somehow a whole chunk at the end of the last chapter got wiped and I missed it (prob because I was up until 50 o'clock trying to post it).
> 
> It's now been fixed and uh... links into this one... so you might want to go read the last paragraph....
> 
> Anyway...

Derek doesn’t visit Stiles at the hospital.

Melissa keeps him updated, calling Derek often in the first couple of hours. John must have told her what happened because she reassures him that confusion is a common with heat stroke and that Stiles had woken, delirious in the emergency department, asking for him.

Melissa’s got it wrong though. Stiles asking for Derek, _that’s_ the confusion. Everything he’d said in the cabin had been the truth.

She texts Derek again once Stiles’ temperature stabilises, and again when he’s admitted.

The rest of the pack aren’t allowed to visit Stiles in the ICU so they text non-stop, asking Derek for updates. He passes on everything Melissa tells him, cutting off the pack because of his own issues wouldn’t be fair.

Scott and Kira cut their honeymoon short by a couple of days, returning the morning after Stiles was kidnapped. Scott is the first of the pack visit Stiles, other than John and Melissa, and he calls Derek afterwards, demanding to know why he’s not there.

“He wouldn’t want me there.” Derek sighs into the phone, regretting answering the call.

 _“In what universe?”_ Scott replies with a derisive snort. _“Mom told me what happened-- Stiles didn’t know what he was saying!”_

“We’re not dating Scott,” Derek tells him. “I don’t know why everyone thinks we are, but we’re not.” He sinks down onto the couch.

 _“What are you talking about?”_ Scott’s voice rises _. “You guys come on double dates with me and Kira all the time.”_

“No, we don’t.”

 _“Uh, yes you do. We-“_ Scott’s voice drops to a whisper suddenly as he remembers where he is. _“We all saw the new Spiderman movie together.”_

“That wasn’t a date.”

_“You and Stiles were sharing popcorn.”_

Derek rolls his eyes. “Because Stiles finished his.”

_“You let him wear your jacket.”_

“He get’s cold easier than we do.”

 _“You visited him like, every weekend while he was away at college! You live with him! Stiles_ likes _you dude. Like, really, really likes you._ _Derek-”_

“No,” Derek cuts Scott off. “He said it was never going to happen.”

_“In the cabin? Dude! He was delirious! His brain was frying!”_

Derek rakes his hand through his hair. “Can you please, just drop it Scott?”

Scott sighs down the line. _“Fine. I’ll leave it for now, but once Stiles is better you guys have got to talk about this. He really_ has _been asking for you.”_

“I’ll think about it,” Derek says, thinking that he’ll be doing no such thing.

 _“Good. I gotta go man.”_ Scott says. _“You should come see him.”_

Derek ends the call with empty promises and drops the phone onto the cushion next to him. He knows he’ll have to go see Stiles eventually. The longer he puts it off, the harder it’s going to get.

He keeps himself busy with made up household chores. It serves the dual purpose of keeping him distracted and busy so that his thoughts don’t wander.

Halfway through cleaning the bathroom, Derek gets a message from Melissa letting him know Stiles has been moved out of ICU. He forwards the message on to the rest of the pack and goes back to cleaning.

Twenty-minutes later, there is a knocking on the front door.

“Derek Samuel Hale, I know you’re in there.”

Another three sharp raps echo down the hall.

“Do _not_ make me use my key.”

Derek stands and strips the gloves from his hands.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lydia rounds on him as soon as he opens the front door. “I just got off the phone to Scott. He said you haven’t been to see Stiles _once._ ”

Derek’s mouth drops open.

“I, uh-“

“Nope.” Lydia cuts him off. “Pick up your moping werewolf butt and go visit Stiles.”

“I already told Scott-“

“I don’t care what you told Scott.” Lydia plants her hands on her hip. “Stiles is your friend, yes?”

“I- yeah?”

“And friends go and visit friends when they are in hospital?”

“Lydia-“

“Scott told me everything.” Her tone softens. “And I’m sorry Derek, I really am. I had no idea.”

“You and everyone else it seems.”

“He wants to see you,” Lydia says gently. “I can give you a lift. We can visit him together.”

“And what if he tries to kick me out?” Derek asks.

Lydia flicks her hair back and adjusts her purse back up onto her shoulder. “Yeah, that’s never going to happen. Go get your shoes.”

The ride to over to the hospital is tense. It's getting late, the sun is starting to set and Derek hopes that means Stiles will be asleep when they get there. At least then Derek won’t have to talk to him.

Once they arrive, Lydia checks her phone.

“Scott said he’s in room 214.” She looks around the foyer for some kind of directory. There’s a sign on the far wall with arrows pointing down the corridor. “This way.”

She leads Derek through the hospital until they reach Stiles’ room.

“You go in,” Lydia says suddenly, looking down at her phone. “I’ve got to take this.”

Derek narrows his eyes. “Your phone didn’t ring,” he tells her suspiciously, backing away from the door.

“It did,” she promises. “And it’s a very important call.” She raises the phone to her ear. “Oh, a meeting?”

“Lydia,” Derek hisses, trying not to draw the attention of any of the nursing staff milling about.

She pretends to cover the microphone. “I’ve got to go. I’m missing a very important meeting.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are.” Despite the anxiety coursing through him, the corner of his mouth ticks up at Lydia’s very obvious and transparent attempt to get Derek into Stiles’ room alone.

“You are the worst,” he mouths at her.

“Go see your boyfriend,” she mouths back.

“He’s not-“

The door to Stiles’ room opens making Derek and Lydia both jump.

“Derek, I thought I heard you.” Melissa smiles and closes the door gently behind her. “Stiles is asleep, but you can go in. I made John go home and get some real food so there’s no one with him at the moment.”

Lydia makes a little shooing gesture with her hands, fake phone call already forgotten.

“Thanks Mel.”

Derek slips past her and into the dimly lit room.

There are two beds, but only one of them is occupied. Derek wonders if Melissa pulled some strings. There’s no way Stiles’ health insurance would cover a private room, but this was private enough.

Stiles is on his side with his back to the door. Derek walks over to the bed, careful not to wake him. If he’s lucky, Stiles will sleep his through his whole visit.

Derek sits in the chair that’s been left beside the bed and takes a second to really look at Stiles. He looks… okay all things considered. His gown has come untied exposing one pale shoulder and collarbone, it’s enough to see the awful red flush from his skin is gone.

“Der’k.”

Stiles shifts, blinking at him from the bed.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Stiles smiles, licking his chapped lips. “Ugh.”

“You okay?” Derek asks, leaning forward in his seat.

“Thirsty.”

“Oh.” Derek looks around the room but can’t find any water. “Want me to get someone?”

Stiles shakes his head, eyes drooping. One of his hands comes up to tug at the gown and then he’s asleep again.

Derek stays for a while longer, watching Stiles’ chest rise and fall with his slow, even breathing. He almost doses off himself, hypnotised by the rhythm, when the door to the room opens and a figure steps inside.

“Derek.” John pauses just inside the room. “I didn’t expect you to be here.” There’s no malice in his tone, just fatherly concern.

Derek stands to offer him the chair. “I was about to leave anyway.”

John waves him off, pulling up another chair.. “Sit, please.”

“Oh, um.” Derek sits, waiting for John to speak. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here,” he says when the lengthening silence becomes too much. “I should have been here.”

“He asked for you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told.”

“I spoke to Scott,” John says. “He, uh, told me about your conversation.”

Derek glances over at Stiles, to make sure he’s still sleeping soundly.

“Did everyone…?”

John chuckles. “Pretty much.”

“Oh.” Derek looks down at his hands. “I knew.” He glances up at John. “That, uh, people thought we were dating. Cora told me… after Scott’s wedding. I should have said something, but-“

“You wanted it to be real.”

It’s not a question and if it was, they’d both know what the answer would be.

“You know, Stiles talks about you. All the time.” John looks at across at his son. “The whole time he was away for school it was ‘Derek did this’ and ‘Derek told me that’.” He turns to Derek. “I think, if you spoke to him, it would go better than you expect.”

Derek mulls John’s words over in his head on the way home.

True to her word, Lydia returns to give him a lift. She doesn’t say anything, but her little knowing smile says it all.

*

Derek goes back to the hospital the next day.

He spent the whole night rehearsing what he was going to say to Stiles, and he wants to get there early to avoid any other pack members who might want to visit.

The door to Stiles’ room is open when Derek arrives.

“Oh, sorry,” he says spotting the nurse beside Stiles’ bed. “I’ll come back.”

“It’s fine,” the nurse waves him in. “I’m just about done.”

Derek stands awkwardly beside the bed, waiting for her to finish up.

“Please tell me you’ve come to break me out,” Stiles jokes once the nurse leaves. He’s sounding better today, sitting against the raised bed head.

“Not unless you know how to deal with that,” Derek gestures towards a bag hanging from the bed.

Stiles turns bright red. “Oh, I am never going to live this down with the rest of the pack.” He sinks back against the mattress, flinging an arm up over his face.

“It’s not the worst we’ve seen,” Derek reminds him. “Remember when Scott got drunk on that wolfsbane brew and-“

“Oh god, don’t remind me,” Stiles gasps, swallowing down the sudden nausea. “I will puke everywhere!”

“Again.”

“Rude.” Stiles drags his hand down his face. “I was just doing what any sane human would do when faced with... no, I can’t even say it.”

Derek has sorely missed this, their easy friendship and teasing banter. Things have been so tense between them and his next words were either going to fix everything or ruin it for good.

“Uh, I was hoping to talk to you,” Derek says, pulling up his chair from the night before. “About the last few weeks.”

“Okay,”

Derek sits, but doesn’t immediately say anything. In the minutes between stepping through the door to this very moment, the words he’d so carefully practised have gone. Vanished. And now he doesn’t know where to begin.

“Do you remember much from the other day?” Derek fumbles over the words.

“Bits.” Stiles shrugs. “Not much after the-“ he swallows down the lump in his throat. “The trunk.”

“You said something, about one of the hunters, about what she said.”

Stiles frowns. “She… kept calling me your mate. Like, like she thought we were dating or something.”

“Yeah.” Derek can’t look Stiles in the eye. “She uh, wasn’t the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Derek looks at the floor, the pillows, the monitors, anywhere but directly at Stiles. “Turns out your dad also thought we were dating. So did Scott and Kira, Melissa, Lydia… everyone thought we were dating.”

“Oh.” Stiles pales and Derek’s eyes flick to him against his will. “This is all my fault.”

“What?”

“I should have said something.” Stiles leans forward on the bed. “I know I should have, but things were so good, you know?” He doesn’t wait for Derek to respond, just steamrolls on. “Like we’d go out with Scott and Kira and you always let me eat your popcorn and… and I’d start thinking what it would be like if it was _real._ ”

“I wanted it to be real.” Derek doesn’t think Stiles heard him, but then the younger man’s words just trail off.

“What?”

Derek forces himself to look at Stiles. “I wanted it to be real.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Stiles asks. “I thought… maybe I’d done something. Like, maybe you’d figured it out and were… I dunno, uncomfortable with the idea of me liking you.”

“No.” Standing, Derek places his hands on the railing that runs along the side of the bed. “I wanted to tell you, but every time I just, I couldn’t find the words. I was afraid I’d say the wrong thing and you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Is this why you’ve been acting so strange?”

Derek nods.

“Oh my god.” Stiles shakes his head. “I can’t believe we’ve been dating this whole time and _neither_ of us noticed. We need to fix this.”

“How?”

Stiles reaches out and grabs Derek’s shirt, pulling him in close. “Like this.”

_*One week later*_

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Derek cuts the ignition and looks across at Stiles.

“I’ve been stuck inside the house for a week,” Stiles complains. “Yes, I am up for this.” He unclips his seatbelt. “It’s just dinner.”

“I know, but-“

“I’m fine. Come on, I’m starving.”

Stiles waits for Derek to come around the car then takes his hand, and they walk up the street towards the restaurant.

“Oh, this is fancy,” Stiles says, checking out the menu while they wait to be seated. The waitress leads them over to a booth and tells them the specials.

Stiles looks at Derek after he clears his throat for the first time.

“Why are you so nervous?” He asks, taking Derek’s hand with a laugh. “Relax, I’m not going to keel over or anything.”

The waitress returns with wine, pouring a glass for each of them before disappearing again.

“Oh my god,” Stiles crows, startling the couple at the table beside them. “This is a date!”

“What?” Derek fumbles at his wine glass, catching it before the burgundy liquid sloshes over the pristine tablecloth. “Of course, this is a date. What did you think it was?”

“You should have said something,” Stiles says, still laughing. “I would have, I dunno, put on a nicer shirt or washed my hair or something.”

“I did.”

Stiles pulls a face. “No.” He draws the word out. “You said, ‘hey, dinner?’ And I said, ‘fuck yes, get me out of this house’. That is _not_ how you invite someone on a date.”

“That’s not what I said,” Derek frowns.

“It is _totally_ what you said.” Stiles grins. “I can’t believe I like you.”

“But you do,” Derek teases. “So much.”

“Yeah.” Stiles squeezes the hand he’s still holding and Derek squeezes back.

“Me too.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow you guys. It's finished!!! I really hope you enjoyed this story!
> 
> I just want to give a huge thanks to everyone who left kudo's and comments along the way. It really helped to keep me motivated and ever single comment made my day.
> 
> Big thanks to my housemate An_Optimist_Prime for putting up with my rambling and helping me bounce ideas while I wrote.
> 
> I've got a few other stories that I'm hoping to post at the end of the month, so we'll see how they go.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://tails89.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter ](https://twitter.com/level_8_pigeon) for more updates on what I'm working on.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not from the US so there may be instances Australianisms that snuck through.


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